


Sandy Floors and Questionable Furnishings

by GraarPlacemat



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, Polyamory, Some angst, Threesome - M/M/M, boys getting pedicures, deep fried oreos, nerds on a beach, uhh ill add tags as they come up i guess, vaguely psychic Mike Zacharias
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-19 05:49:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1458157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraarPlacemat/pseuds/GraarPlacemat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been the summer before his eighth grade year when Jean Kirschstein found the loves of his life.</p><p>Call it whatever you like, but he’d never forget those two weeks. Sure, maybe he’d already known one of them for a couple years, maybe he’d engaged in a fistfight the moment he’d met the other, maybe he didn’t even realize how deeply in love he’d fallen that summer until another one years later, but if there was anything he was certain of, it was that the little shack four blocks from the beach was a place of magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Airports and Beachside Ice Cream Parlors

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, there! So... I wrote this. I have the rest pretty well sketched out(and actually have a couple more chapters written already - I just need to edit them!) so I feel like I'll be able to update somewhat regularly, so I'm taking the opportunity to post this first chapter!  
> These guys are my OT3, in case you couldn't tell. I hope I didn't write anyone too OOC :( Also, sorry for this first chapter being heavy on Eren and Jean! Marco will come later, I promise, but for the record, there is basically no MarcoEren or JeanMarco in this first chapter - though that'll come later! Also, I meant this to be lighthearted, and it mostly is, though I kinda ended up making some of it a little angsty, just so y'all know.  
> And I'm sorry for the New Jersey jokes. I love you, Jersey, you know I do.  
> Nonetheless, please enjoy! :)

It had been the summer before his eighth grade year when Jean Kirschstein found the loves of his life.

Call it melodramatic, call it corny, call it whatever you like - but he’d never forget those two weeks. Sure, maybe he’d already known one of them for a couple years, maybe he’d engaged in a fistfight the moment he’d met the other, maybe he didn’t even realize how deeply in love he’d fallen _that_ summer until another one years later, but if there was anything he was certain of, it was that the little shack four blocks from the beach was a place of magic.

There were four rooms - two narrow bedrooms that would be more accurately described as closets, in which the creaky, hardly even safe bunk beds took up almost all of the floor space, a living room stuffed uncomfortably full with old lady-style furniture, and a kitchen that barely managed to house a table for four and the necessary kitchen appliances. The bathroom was outdoors and the air conditioning was unreliable at best. Every nook and gap in the floorboards or between the wall and the ceiling was filled with sand, centipedes, or both.

And Jean made absolutely sure that when they finally all came back, this would be the exact house they stayed in.

 

Philadelphia International was surprisingly empty, what with it being midway through July in one of the nation’s largest airports. You’d have thought there’d be a bunch of people, coming and going from their vacations and stuff.

No, Eren Jaeger found himself perfectly alone, waiting for his old friend from across the country to arrive. His other old friend, who was only from halfway across the country(not that that was any better, really), would be showing up two days later.

Maybe he should have been a little more creeped out. The last time all three of them had met in person, they’d all been thirteen years old. Thirteen to eighteen was a pretty long time. Still, he’d at least met up with Marco once since then, and they all spoke on a regular basis.

Maybe he should have let Mikasa come along. But these weren’t her friends. And she had her fantastic summer internship to attend to and it would be a pretty long commute from the New Jersey shoreline to the outskirts of Philadelphia.

And come on. He knew these guys. He knew them every bit as well as he knew Mikasa or Armin. Sometimes he thought they knew him better than either of his siblings. After all, it was almost as if they telepathically knew when Marco needed to send him a cute picture of a duck or when Jean had to show him a new-and-improved ugly selfie.

Jean’s flight had landed. The monitor informed Eren of this development.

What was Seattle like? Eren imagined it must have been pretty anticlimactic going from a house three blocks from the beach to an unassuming shack four blocks from a different beach for vacation. He recalled the beachouse his family had rented five years ago and how dismayed he’d been when he’d seen where Marco and Jean were staying. Still, if their parents weren’t coming along, why should they have to pay for two weeks in some luxury beachside apartment when there was a perfectly good hunk of shit in a far less convenient location?

Well, it wasn’t like he was one to judge. He was only going one state over, to an ocean he’d seen a million times before. Still, somehow, it seemed a lot more exciting, knowing he’d be with his friends.

People began to trickle down the hallway, approaching him and anyone else who happened to be waiting for the patrons of this particular flight. Nobody with two-toned hair and the face of a barn animal yet.

Perhaps not a barn animal - referencing how the guy’d looked the first time they’d met, in the midst of his(and Marco’s, and Eren’s) awkward stage might not be entirely fair. From what he’d seen, Jean had pretty much grown out of being lanky as hell and now(probably) looked a bit less like he was constantly in danger of being blown over by a stray gust of wind.

He felt his phone buzz in his back pocket. Text message.

 

**Jean: I’m stopping in the bathroom**

**Jean: Just letting you know**

 

Ugh. Really? Did he have to wait even longer? The suspense was killing him. Kind of.

Eren sat back on the bench and crossed his legs, letting out a sigh. Patience, he reminded himself. Patience.

What if he got overcharged for parking longer than half an hour? He wasn’t sure he had the cash available for that - Hannes had given him this small stash for grocery shopping on the way there. Anything beyond that was supposed to be up to the three of them. He was already readjusting in his mind, this would have to be re-estimated, that would have to be eliminated entirely…

Hm. It was probably a good thing he was being given these sorts of responsibilities before he actually moved out of the house. This was a good exercise.

“Dude,” came a familiar voice, “You don’t have to look all concerned. It’s just me.”

Two-toned hair and definitely _not_ the face of a barn animal.

Also the biggest shit-eating grin he’d ever seen.

He felt that grin mirror itself on his own mouth. “I’m just scared that the fear of seeing your ugly mug when I wake up in the morning is going to interfere with my beauty sleep.”

“That’s it. You’re sleeping in the other room. I don’t need this kind of negativity in my life,” Jean countered dramatically, the effect mostly ruined by the smile that refused to wipe itself off his face.

Eren snickered and lifted himself from the bench, stretching his arms out and beckoning Jean in. “Get in here, punk.”

“Punk? Can I get your cane for you, geezer?” Nonetheless, Jean accepted the hug, squeezing Eren uncomfortably in his surprisingly strong arms. Pulling back, he frowned a bit. “Is that a sunburn?”

Eren grimaced - it wasn’t even that bad by his standards, but to everyone else it was painfully noticeable. “No matter what I try, this is always how it ends. Sunblock. Gradual exposure. I always turn into a lobster. It doesn’t actually hurt.”

Jean gave him a very serious look before crouching down and sticking out his arms, shaping his hands as claws and pacing back and forth sideways.

“That’s a crab, Jean.”

He continued his exaggerated actions. Eren just rolled his eyes.

“Let’s just go. Parking’s only free for the first half hour.”

“Wait!” Jean replied, becoming serious once more. “I’m hungry, can’t we just stop REALLY quick -”

“No. The food here probably sucks and they’ll charge us more than it’s worth. We can stop once we’re out of the city.”

Much as Jean wanted to argue with this logic, it really was hopeless to even try. Besides, he was eager to get out of here, himself - The sooner that happened, the sooner they’d get where they were going. He wordlessly dropped in next to Eren, who was loping briskly through the airport.

“I still have to get my luggage, you know,” he informed his traveling companion.

Eren stopped short. “You’ve got that thing,” he began questioningly, pointing out Jean’s overlarge carry-on, “and you _checked baggage_? What could fit in a big suitcase that couldn’t fit in there?”

“Clothes! And, like, important stuff! This one’s full of entertainment!”

“How much entertainment did you need?!”

“Enough for two three-hour flights and a two-hour layover, that’s how much!”

Eren ripped Jean’s bag away from him and unzipped the top. “Holy shit, there’s a million books in here.”

“I am a literate man.”

“These are all, like - these are all those dumb girly books. _The Host_? Really?”

Jean snatched his bag back, face even redder than Eren’s sunburn. “It’s better than you’d think,” he defended.

“Whatever. Let’s go get the rest of your stash of trashy romance novels.”

“Okay, I promise, the others are filled with CLOTHES -”

“ _Others_? You checked MULTIPLE?!”

 

“Just as I remember it,” Jean said with a blissful sigh.

“Me, too,” Eren groaned. “Is this thing even legal? It looks like it could collapse on top of us.”

The “beach house” definitely had something of a sideways slant to it. Just from looking at the outside, Eren knew it had to be the cheapest dwelling for miles. The pale blue paint was peeling, the garden was riddled with weeds, and the lawn was alternating pieces that were dried out or completely overgrown.

“They wouldn’t be allowed to rent it out if it didn’t pass safety checks. And, hey, here we are!”

“What safety standards are they using? I don’t know if I trust the state of New Jersey with this kind of decision - you don’t know it like I do, Jean, you haven’t been living right smack dab next to it all your life -”

“Hey,” Jean interrupted, an excited glint in his eye, “Get on your swimsuit. We’re going to the beach.”

“Not before we unload the groceries, we’re not. And let’s call Marco and our parents and stuff.”

“You’re lamer than I remember.”

“I grew up a little, Jean. It’s something to be proud of.”

“Did you grow up too much to see the fun in a midnight run to the playground?”

Eren cracked a smile. “Of course not. No one’s too grown up to get excited about not having to share the swingset.”

“You dork. Anyway, you’re right, let’s get these inside.”

Despite the sheer amount of bags, between the two of them, they managed to make it in just two trips. They sorted all the perishables from the non-perishables, placing the former in the refrigerator(which they had to figure out how to turn on) and arranging the latter on the dining room table. They then turned on the air conditioning, because the tiny house was magnifying the heat from outside without it.

They both texted their parents, agreeing to call Marco on the way to the beach. They then changed into their swimsuits(Eren with an additional t-shirt for protection), slathered Eren with their strongest sunblock, and began the short trek to the sea.

They made the call on Jean’s phone.

_“Hey, guys! How is everything so far?”_

“Good! Everything’s good. We didn’t wake you up or anything, did we?”

_“Jean, it’s four-thirty here. The time difference is only an hour.”_

“Hey, I’m not the East Coast native. I don’t know anything. I’m usually either two or three hours behind you guys.”

“You should have been able to figure it out from there, moron.”

“Shut up, Eren.”

“ _Calm down! I don’t want you two murdering each other before I even get there!”_

“That’s not even the worst fight we’ve gotten in today, Marco. Can you believe Jean had _three_ bags?! _Three_?!”

_“Well - if they were all clothes, that’s practical. Remember, we’re either hand-washing or finding a laundromat over there.”_

“But they weren’t all clothes! One was entirely books! Totally awful ones, too!”

“My taste in books is AWESOME, Jaeger, I can’t help your poor judgement -”

“He had this one that was LITERALLY called _Sex at Dawn_ , Marco. SEX. AT. DAWN.”

_“That sounds… awful. That actually sounds awful.”_

“YOU SEE?!”

“IT IS A VERY BEAUTIFUL AND INTRICATE LOVE STORY.”

“IT IS A PRETENTIOUSLY WRITTEN PORNO.”

 _“That sounds suspiciously like a pretentiously written porno, Jean._ ”

“You two are tasteless and crude. I refuse to be associated with you any longer.”

They heard laughter coming from the other line. _“Alright, Jean. I have some chores to do, anyway. I’m glad you both got there safe. Have a good night, and I’ll see you the day after tomorrow.”_

“Bye, Marco.”

“Good riddance, you uncultured swine.”

More chuckling was heard before the line cut out.

“Marco’s the best,” Jean sighed, tucking his phone back in his rolled-up towel.

“I’m definitely going to tell him you said that the moment after you called him an ‘uncultured swine’.”

“Go ahead. See if I care. He knows I love him.”

Eren said nothing, walking along with a blank look on his face. Jean glanced over at him.

“What?”

“I’m - wondering if the lifeguard’s still on duty.”

“I don’t think so - not after five. It’s okay, we’ll keep an eye on each other. Besides, that means we don’t have to share the beach with four-year-old assholes.”

“No, we only have to share it with eighteen-year-olds that _act_ like four-year-old assholes.”

“Was that directed at anyone in particular, Jaeger?”

“Of course not, Kirschstein.”

“That’s fucking right.”

 

They’d only been splashing around for an hour or two before Jean started to get tired. Eren couldn’t really blame him - yeah, technically, it was a lot earlier for him than it really was, but he’d been up since the crack of dawn. They made quick work of gathering their stuff up and heading back. Jean, however, hesitated.

“Are you sure you’re okay going back? Like, if you wanted to keep swimming, I could just sit on the towel and keep watch or something.”

“Nah, the sun’s setting anyway. And it wouldn’t be any fun being in the water by myself.”

“Well, I feel bad making you go back to the house when you’re not even tired.” A thought occurred to him then. “Hey, to make up for it, do you wanna go to that ice cream parlor? It’s not far. I could pay.”

“What ice cream parlor? The only one I know is, like, a million miles away.”

“What, seriously? How many times have you been here? There’s one in that little string of businesses a couple of blocks over. It’s really good - you can choose soft serve or, like, normal - what do they call it?”

Eren shrugged. “Well, lead the way, I guess. Ice cream sounds good.”

“Okay, but I’ll warn you - the management might have changed, but the last time I went there, the people at the counter were super weird.”

“And this coming from Jean Kirschstein, reader of pretentiously written pornos.”

“ _Sex at Dawn_ is NOT pretentiously written -”

“It is SO pretentiously written, Jean.”

The rest of their walk to the ice cream joint was typically uneventful, tempered by Jean and Eren’s sarcastic, friendly bickering. As they reached the street, Jean pointed.

“See? It’s right there.”

“Huh. I’ve been to this street a million times and never noticed. Like, I’ve even looked at the sign a couple times, but it never really registered as an ice cream place.”

“Well, with a name like ‘Welcome to the Survey Corps’, they’re kind of inviting that result,” Jean admitted, the corner of his mouth sneaking upward. “I honestly wonder what that’s supposed to mean.”

“Anyway, you said the owners are weird. I can imagine them being weird enough to name a place after - um. Whatever the hell that is.”

As they approached the doorway, he furrowed his brow. “Are they going to mind us wearing swimsuits? You don’t even have a shirt on.”

“They’re a beachside ice cream parlor, Eren. They get this shit all the time. Even in Seattle, that’s a regular occurrence.”

Some little bell jingled as they entered the building, typical of this kind of charming stop. In fact, just about everything about the near-empty eatery was pretty typical - gleaming white countertops, gleaming white tables with red trim, a vaguely fifties-style feel to the chrome surfaces and vintage jukebox. If there was anything suspicious, it may have been how freakishly clean everything was.

Eren raised an eyebrow at Jean. “Weird, you said?”

“Not the place itself, you idiot,” Jean whispered urgently, glancing at the counter, “The people who operate it. And I’m not sure, but I think they’re the same people.”

Aside from the small family sharing ice cream in the corner, there were two people behind the counter and one in front, all wearing similar uniforms. The one in front of the counter was excessively short and extremely terrifying, scowling at the messy-faced infant with his parents. The other two were talking to him, one a fairly tall woman with a sloppy ponytail and a huge grin on her face, the other a taller man with elegantly styled blond hair and an air of confidence and poise.

The two approached the counter, Eren’s face a tableau of fascination and fear, Jean enjoying watching the conflicting emotions on his friend’s face. As they neared him, the shortest of the trio leered at them, seeming to size them up. Eren noticed a rag and a bottle of cleaning solution grasped in his hands.

After a tense moment, the small man nodded, as if in approval, and bid them, “Don’t make a mess, shitheads.” He then stalked away to scrub at one of the immaculate tabletops.

Seeming to ignore her coworker’s rudeness, the woman spread her arms in a welcoming gesture and crowed, “Welcome to the Survey Corps! Have you been here before? Do you know what you’d like? Please don’t be put off by our husband - he’s an incurable asshole. Trust me, we’ve tried.”

“Um,” Eren stalled, “Does he… call all of your customers - uh -”

“Shitheads?” The blond man finished for him, offering him an enigmatic smile. “Only the ones he likes.”

Eren glanced at Jean, who was trying as hard as he could not to burst out laughing, tears of effort brewing in his eyes, and said slowly, “We’ll… look around. At the flavors and stuff.”

“Go ahead! Today’s special is ‘Ice-Screams of Pain’ - red velvet mixed with brownie bites and vanilla!”

As they walked along the counter, leaving the duo to their conversation, Eren gave Jean a panicked look. “Oh, god, you were right.”

“I know.”

“They’re -”

“I hope you never doubt me again.”

“I’ll never doubt you again.”

“They’re really nice, though. Back when Marco and I visited and were regulars for those two weeks, we kinda got to know them and -”

“I KNEW I KNEW YOU!” The woman interrupted, skidding to a halt opposite them at the counter. “Oh my god, you haven’t been here in five years! You were this tall last I saw you,” she exclaimed, holding up her hand to indicate.

“You remember me?!”

“I never forget a customer! Right, Erwin?”

“She never forgets a customer.”

“Where’s your cute freckled friend? Marco?”

“You remember _Marco_?!”

“I never,” she repeated, “Forget a customer.”

“She never does,” Erwin added affectionately.

“Five-year reunion - I think he should get free ice cream.”

“No,” the shorter man said from the other side of the room.

“Fine! Seventy-five percent discount!”

“Ten percent discount.”

“Forty percent,” Erwin interjected, “No more, no less.”

“Thanks!” Jean said excitedly, “What about my friend?”

“It’s not HIS five-year reunion,” the short man replied.

“But I’m paying for him.”

The woman nearly screamed, “Forty percent discount on all your purchases for the night!”

“Forty percent discount on his first two purchases for the night, Hanji,” Erwin supplied once more.

“I’ll take it!” Jean shouted before the shorter man or Hanji could take it any farther.

“Excellent,” Erwin said approvingly. “I will be serving you. Have you decided which flavors you would like?”

“Go ahead, Eren.”

“EREN! That’s a nice name!”

“Please restock the soft serve machine, Hanji.”

“Okay, Erwin.”

“Um,” Eren erred, “Waffle cone - with, uh, cookies and cream and mint chip?”

“Would you like that cone chocolate-dipped?”

“Sure, I guess.”

“And you?”

“Two scoops of the special on a waffle cone, please. Dipped.”

“Coming right up.”

As the two of them waited for their ice cream, Eren leaned over to Jean and whispered, “You’re not gonna want more ice cream after this, right?”

“Nope.”

“Then can we get outta here after we’ve got ours? I don’t want there to be another, uh - whatever that was.”

“Really? But they’re so entertaining.”

“I thought you were tired.”

“I am. I was just joking. We can go.”

They were given their ice cream with a barely audible apology from Erwin and their promised forty percent discount and then went home, Eren vastly more exhausted from twenty minutes in that ice cream parlor than he’d been from an hour and a half of playing in the ocean. Jean found this hilarious.

 

They slept in the next day and spent the rest of the daylight on the beach. They even stayed to watch the sunset after everyone had left, and remained, chatting, as it got dark. Eventually, they decided that if there was any time to visit their favorite playground, it should be then.

Passing by some smokers and a set of bushes with some curious moaning sounds coming from within, they made their way to the playground proper - and, of course, the swings.

It was only a few minutes later that Jean was splayed on the ground, his forelegs still up on the swing’s seat, staring up at the stars while Eren continued swinging as high as he could.

“One,” he panted.

“Two.”

“Three,” he gasped as he let go of the chains, flying into the air and not quite sticking the landing, falling on his front and rolling a bit before coming to a stop on the wood chips. There was a quiet moment when he didn’t move.

“Eren?” Jean called, lifting his head, “You didn’t die, right?”

“No.”

“Did you hit your sunburn?”

“Maybe.”

“Did you forget your shoes?”

“Yes.”

Jean groaned, letting his head fall back on the ground. “I don’t wanna get up.”

“It’s cool - I can just. Pick my way back. Painfully.”

“It’s your own damn fault for kicking them off.” Despite his tone of voice, Jean watched Eren to make sure his movements weren’t hampered in a concerning manner. They weren’t. He went back to stargazing.

Having retrieved his flip-flops and limped to the swing to Jean’s right, Eren sat himself down. “What do you see up there?”

“Dicks.”

“Funny, I see them too.”

Jean laughed. Eren didn’t.

“Jean?”

“Yeah?”

There came a pause. “I think,” Eren said, “I like boys.”

“That’s cool.”

“And girls. And everybody else.”

“That’s cool.”

“You don’t think it’s weird?”

“Didn’t you know?” Jean asked, propping himself up on one elbow, “I’m bisexual. Marco’s gay. We don’t care what genitals you like or if you don’t like any or if you wish yours were different.”

“You’re bi? Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Guess it never came up. I never meant it to be a secret, I promise. Especially from you.”

Eren didn’t say anything for a while.

“Eren?”

Jean heard Eren open his mouth, begin to say something. He didn’t continue. Jean looked at him curiously.

“What’s up, man?”

Eren was swinging, slowly, back and forth, staring at the ground.

“Come on, you can talk to me.” Eren’s silence went on. “You have something to say and you’re not saying it. Come on, it’s always obvious when you’re not telling me something.”

“What if,” Eren forced out, broke, and forced out again, “What if I like. You?”

This time, Jean found he couldn’t say anything.

“W-would you just - hate me? I. I don’t know if I do, it’s just -”

Jean’s mouth was hanging open. Eren still wasn’t looking at him.

“- I’ve been thinking through this stuff, and how I feel like I l-like, uh, guys, and -”

“Eren?”

“- and I’m basically living with you, like, alone, for a couple days, and I’m thinking about how that’s kinda nice -”

“Eren!”

“- and that makes me feel like - well - maybe - I don’t know! I just -”

“EREN!”

Eren finally stopped talking and looked back at Jean, who had stopped with his oddball positioning and sat himself upright, frowning intensely at Eren.

“Eren,” he whispered, surprisingly gently, “It’s okay not to understand your feelings right now. Realizing you’re not heterosexual? Sucks. Being brave enough to come out? Sucks. Liking a straight guy? Sucks! It _sucks_!”

The corner of Eren’s mouth twitched upward for a second. It was enough for Jean to continue.

“All this early stuff - trying to figure out labels, realizing how _hot_ everybody in the entire world happens to be, suddenly crushing on every guy that’s kinda nice to you - it sucks. It all sucks. Sucks balls. But you know something?

“I’m out, and I’ve found a label I’m comfortable with, and I’ve never been happier. You take your time with coming out and all that shit - but, just, like, remember - it doesn’t all suck. Only the first part. Okay? You’ll be okay.”

Eren was crying. But there was a smile on his face.

“You’re gonna rock this, man. You’ve got this. You’ll be okay.”

Eyes closed tight, hiccupping with tears, Eren managed a nod.

“See? That wasn’t so hard. Get down here and give me a hug, you brat.”

Eren collapsed to the ground and crawled toward his friend, clinging to his unfamiliar familiarity. He even managed a sick-sounding laugh.

“Th-thanks, Jean.”

“Anytime, Eren.”

“I c-can’t believe you got through all this without t-telling me once.”

“I’m a quiet crier. Also an ugly one. I probably just didn’t want you to see my ugly crying face.”

This laugh was a lot more heartfelt.

“Thanks, Jean.”

“Anytime, Eren.”

They remained like that only a second more, then pulled away. Eren gave Jean a teary smile before wiping his nose and smearing it on Jean’s shirt.

“Gross.”

“I just confessed my love to you, Jean. Gotta keep you humble somehow.”

Jean waggled his eyebrows. “So, you really meant that?”

“Well - at first, I was kinda confused. Then you acted all cool.”

This sobered Jean up. “Uh… Oh. Um.”

“It’s okay. We can be friends.”

Jean stared contemplatively at the swing in front of him. He opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. Finally, he looked at Eren in the corner of his eye and sighed, “You’re the cool one, jackass.”

“What?”

“How you can just be so… honest. Like that.”

“Well, there’s no point in denying when I came out and said it ten minutes ago.”

“But you could have played it off so easily. Like, blamed it on your confused feelings or something. That’s what I would have done. But you? You just fucking... Said it.”

Eren was looking at the ground again, this time with an embarrassed smile on his face. “We should go home.”

He stood up, offering a hand to pull Jean up after him. Jean stood. They looked at each other for a moment.

And Jean kissed Eren.

Or Eren kissed Jean.

Perhaps their faces just gravitated toward each other.

It only lasted a second.

But the quiet following lasted all the way home.


	2. Movie Watching and The Guy Who Makes Things Okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THERE IS ANGST I'M SORRY

Eren wished they could have taken the train to go pick up Marco.

The noises of people talking all around them could have distracted him from Jean sitting in the passenger seat, awkwardly blasting the music just to have something to fill the space between them. Still, he supposed, at least focusing on traffic gave him an excuse not to talk.

_Why did I do that. Why did I kiss him._

_I didn’t kiss him. He kissed me. This? This is his fault._

_It doesn’t matter who kissed who. I’m the one who SAID it._

_But I told him we could be friends. We didn’t have to kiss. He didn’t say anything about_ wanting _to._

He turned on his blinker and braked down the off ramp.

Jean asked a question, quietly, vacantly, as if he were still in shock from what had happened in the park last night.

“What?”

“What do we tell Marco?”

Eren didn’t answer.

“Are you mad at me?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying. I’m not mad at you.”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I don’t know… why we did it.”

“Well, you said ‘we’, so some of the blame must be on me.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“Wouldn’t you be able to tell if I was mad? You always seem to know what I’m thinking before I do.”

Jean shrugged limply, then said, because Eren couldn’t see him, “I don’t know.”

Eren’s eyes had been so pretty in the light of the moon. Like a mirror. A foresty-green-tinted mirror. That sounded stupid as hell. Whatever, Jean was never much of a poet.

 _Why did I kiss him?_ Jean asked himself.

_Why did he kiss me, more like._

_I shouldn’t have done it. He was already feeling like shit about himself. I shouldn’t have messed things up more._

_Well, I already said sorry. And he had already told me he liked me._

_That doesn’t make it okay. That doesn’t make anything okay._

They rolled into the parking structure and Eren began seeking out a parking space. He found one directly next to the entrance.

“Lucky break.”

“I’m - I’m a good luck charm, you know. Whenever I’m in the passenger seat, good parking follows.”

That sounded stupid. Jean wanted to hit himself. Eren probably did too, though maybe not just because of the dumb joke. Eren probably just wanted to hit him. Probably.

Though maybe not. Eren didn’t seem to be doing that tightening-up-all-over thing that he always did when he was angry. As they walked briskly down the hallway, all Jean detected from the other party was reservation.

And then they were at the gate’s waiting area, waiting for Marco to come down the hallway toward them, and Jean had nothing better to do than wonder what was happening in Eren’s head and if there was any possible way to remedy the situation. He didn’t want to lose Eren because of some dumb kiss. Eren was one of his best friends. He didn’t want to lose five years of text messages and skyping and ridiculously immature jokes over one stupid kiss that never should have happened.

And Eren was just standing next to him, staring at the ground like he had last night, this morning, any time that he wasn’t in the car, driving, and GOD why had he done that how could he possibly have been so fucking stupid -

“Jean - Eren! Guys!”

And suddenly he was pressed into an embrace with a collared shirt and brown hair and an ear - Marco’s ear - and he could feel Eren’s shoulder pressing against him but he didn’t care, Marco was here and everything would be okay because Marco was the guy who made everything okay. There was boyish laughter coming from the chest with the collared shirt that Jean was mashed up against, and when Marco finally drew back from the hug, he was grinning and laughing and almost looked like he could cry from joy.

And Eren was smiling, too. Genuinely. That big face-breaking grin that made Jean know that, for now, Eren wasn’t thinking about the kiss.

That was good.

So he let himself smile, too.

“I missed you guys so much,” Marco was saying, “I’m so excited. Like, we have to visit all the old places. The playground -”

Eren’s smile twitched. He looked a little deranged for a moment, then settled.

“- and that old strip mall! We’re going to eat the deep-fried oreos again and it’s going to be awesome!”

“Yeah, it’s going to be great. How many bags did you bring?”

“Just the one. I only brought one book.” Marco looked pointedly at Jean. “Even if I finish it, I’m sure there’ll be plenty more to check out.”

“Forget it. You’re not touching my masterpieces.”

“I’m curious about this ‘ _Sex at Dawn_ ’ business.”

“And you’re ESPECIALLY not touching that particular masterpiece.”

“I’ll snag it for you when he’s not looking.”

“Thanks, Eren. You’re the best.”

“That’s a lie. You’re both the worst.”

Marco just laughed and patted Jean on the back enthusiastically. “You know we love you, Jean. And you love us.”

Jean couldn’t help it. He glanced at Eren. Nothing suspicious, thank god.

However, looking back, he saw Marco giving him a confused stare. “Are you okay, Jean? You look…”

“Uh, I’m! Fine! Haha, no worries, Marco, let’s just get to the shack. You remember the shack, right?”

“How could I ever forget?”

Eren was looking at - scratch that. Eren was glaring at him. Eren was glaring at him shit shitshitshit.

Jean stuck close to Marco while walking back to the car.

Late night on the beach again, with Jean snoring a couple feet away and Marco and Eren laughingly contemplating how he’d react if they drew on his face.

“I really wish I’d brought a marker or something. Look at that douchebag, he’s so asking for it.”

“Eren,” Marco snickered, trying to keep it down so as not to wake Jean up, “P-please… He’d be so mad.”

“And why is he the one asleep anyway? It’s, like, nine, his time.”

“Inscrutable are the ways of jet lag, Eren. Speaking of which - I can’t believe this didn’t occur to me earlier - what are we doing about sleeping arrangements? One of us is going to be left out if we sleep on the bunk beds.”

Eren hesitated a moment. “Um - well, Jean and I have been in one room the past couple days, but I’ll move. It’s fine.”

“What? No, you don’t have to move for me. I’m okay by myself.”

“No, really - it’s - it’s okay. In fact, I’d love to move. That would be great.”

“We could always drag one of the other mattresses into the room with us. Like, I could sleep on the floor, and you guys could stay in whatever formation. Yeah, let’s do that.”

“It’s - well - I guess, if you insist. I mean, for tonight, since it’s late, you can sleep where I’ve been and I’ll - um -”

“No, I’m still wired and stuff. It’ll be no trouble.”

“Marco,” Eren sighed, “Please. Please, just… Don’t try to be nice. I don’t want to be close to Jean right now.”

Marco blinked. “Did,” he began, “Did you guys fight? Worse than usual, I mean?”

Eren bit his lip. Was this okay? Could he really say? This was Marco, though. He’d get it. He’d help him understand what was going on. “... No.”

“Then… What’s wrong? I don’t understand.”

It couldn’t be much harder than telling Jean he loved him.

“I… kissed… Jean. Or - or, he kissed me? It happened. Somebody kissed somebody. Our lips touched. We. Touched mouths.”

There was a long pause - longer than any the night before. Eren felt his heart sink. What was he supposed to think when Marco himself was lost for words? Marco always knew what to say. What was it supposed to mean when he didn’t?

Marco began to stammer. “D-do - Do you and Jean - like each other? Like, _that way_ -”

“I don’t know. I told him I liked him, but I’m so confused, and he didn’t say anything, and - like, if it had been you and me, the same thing might have happened, I’m really just - I don’t know what my feelings are doing right now, I’m…” He looked up at Marco.

Marco was crying.

“Marco?”

“Marco, what’s wrong?”

“Marco, you’re - you’re crying -”

“I’m sorry.”

“What - why are you sorry? Why are you - crying? I’m the one who’s sorry, d-did something I say -” Eren broke off, eyes widening. “You - do you like Jean? Oh my god, I’m - I’m so sorry, I promise I never knew, I would never have done it if I did -”

“N-not Jean. I mean - not _just_ \- Jean.”

It took Eren a moment to think of an answer.

“Just… Jean?”

“B-both of you. I. I like both of you, and this - this is everything I feared would happen. I didn’t want… to be left alone. Like this.”

“M… Marco, I…” Eren hesitated, “Jean and I - We’ve barely been able to talk since it happened. I don’t think the two of us could ever… really work. No matter how we tried, it wouldn’t - so, I mean, d-don’t get sad, it’s not like we’re really a… a thing.”

Marco hung his head.

“And. I. I do like you, Marco.”

He heard a sniff.

“And Jean - shit, man, he’s a million times more in love with you than with me. He doesn’t even realize it, I don’t think, but - the way he talks about you when you’re not around, you can tell. I can tell. He adores you.”

Marco was quiet.

“And, I mean, there’s just - there’s so much to like about you, Marco! You’re always so kind, and you make me feel better, and - and your freckles, shit, you’re just - you’re adorable. Don’t ever try to say otherwise, because - you’re so lovable, and-”

There was no doubt about it this time.

Marco kissed Eren.

And this one wasn’t quite as brief as Eren’s with Jean.

Whereas everything had happened too fast to really feel anything last time, this one lasted long enough for Eren to become overwhelmed with... something.

And it was soft.

Warm.

Glimmering, like the sun setting on the sea.

Not dark, bloody red, like his encounters with Jean.

Shimmering gold, like Marco.

It lasted only a moment, but the moment was long enough.

And Marco pulled back, and everything was gold - the half-moon, the tears on Marco’s cheeks, Marco’s eyes, the halo of light around his head.

He was tempted to kiss him back.

But Marco was crying again.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know - why I did that.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

“I am.”

“Don’t be,” Eren chided, “Seriously. Don’t be sorry. I… I liked it. I like you.” Marco looked at him skeptically. “I do! I think I - I like you.” He repeated it, softly and seriously. “I like you. Like that.”

Marco wiped his nose.

“That was, honestly, the best kiss I’ve ever had. I mean - besides Jean, it was - the only one. That’s embarrassing to say, but it’s true. But. I. I liked it.”

“That was my first one.”

“See? We’re both new to this! I - I liked it. We can - we can make this work.”

“Make it work?”

“Would you,” Eren broke on the words, but forced them out regardless, “Would you kiss me again? Please?”

“W… What?!”

“I really liked it.”

“Wh-what about - What about Jean? Yeah! Um - we should - go back - to the house, and wake him up -”

“It’s weird seeing you this awkward, Marco.”

Marco forced himself to stop, taking a few deep breaths before opening his mouth again. “It’s just… I feel like I just stole you from him, Eren. I feel like a dirtbag. You two kissed first.”

“And then our entire friendship fell apart! You - I feel like the two of us could work!”

“Well, I’m - I’m not sure I’m ready for this! I don’t know if I want to go this fast!”

“We can take it slow! I promise I won’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable -”

_“It’s not enough without Jean!”_

“What?!”

“I told you,” Marco groaned, humiliated, “I like both of you. I - like - the three of us, together. I don’t want… This sounds so greedy - It’s not enough to have just you. I like you so much, but… I w-want Jean, too. I… I’m sorry. This probably sounds so weird. I feel like such a dirtbag,” he repeated.

“That’s,” Eren said dejectedly, “That’s not weird. It’s not weird to like us both. I like you. I like Jean, too. I’m… I’m sorry I got so crazy over this. It’s - after what happened with Jean, I’m just - seeking out affection, I guess. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m… seeking affection too, you could say.”

Eren looked at Marco with those most fantastic of eyes. “Well. I guess I’m kinda flattered. In an awful way.”

Marco laughed, just a bit. “I know what you mean. Me, too.”

Eren turned his gaze to Jean. Exhaled deeply. “Now I really want to draw on his face. What a butt. This is definitely all his fault, by the way.”

“Could really use the distraction.”

“Totally.”

Marco pursed his lips. “I feel really bad about your relationship with him being so tenuous now. I wish there was something I could do.”

“Honestly, I think you being here is good enough. You have a way of just - I don’t know - smoothing things over, I guess.”

“Still. I wish - I wish you two could have worked out. Like, I would have been sad, but… also happy. For you guys. When you guys are happy, I am, too.” He smiled, perhaps a little bitterly. “Kinda sappy, I suppose.”

“I wish all three of us could have worked,” Eren countered, “I wish you didn’t feel like you were in the way of things, because you never are.”

Eye contact.

A kind of strange, insistent electricity.

A proposition.

“I could help you,” Marco quietly told Eren.

“We could help each other,” Eren corrected him.

“This feels strangely evil.”

“It’s devious, no denying it.”

“Any specific ideas?”

“Let’s wing it. That seems to be the flow of things here.”

They had another moment of silent agreement.

They woke Jean up.

Walked home.

Dragged a mattress into their room.

And all went to sleep, Jean blissfully unaware of the evening’s proceedings.

**  
  
**

Hisses and warm smells made their way into Jean’s mind before anything else really did. Bacon.

The perfect thing to wake up to.

He sleepily smiled into his pillow, hugging it closer before rolling over, facing the light streaming through the window and turning the backs of his eyelids bright red. He took a moment, drinking in the lazy warmth, the simple quiet of an unhurried awakening.

One.

Two.

Three.

He forced his eyes open, squinting against the already-strong daylight. He grabbed wildly for the old, overwashed band T-shirt he used as pajamas(his PJ pants already on) and nearly swung his legs out of bed before reminding himself to be mindful of Marco’s placement on the floor. His freckled friend may have acted like a model citizen, but he could turn to murder when woken up abruptly. He could sleep in for hours after Jean was already awake, Jean had learned during their trip five years ago, but it was best to leave him be.

Upon wrestling his shirt on, he looked down to see Marco wedged right up in the corner made by his mattress meeting with the foot of the bunk. He stepped cautiously over Marco’s prone body and made his way out of the room.

“Jean?” came a call from the kitchen. Eren.

In this moment, it occurred to Jean that, maybe, he should have procrastinated on exiting the bedroom a little longer. Long enough to prepare himself mentally for being alone with Eren for as long as it took for Marco to wake up on his own.

“Are you awake?”

“Uh. Yeah.”

“Good - I’m making breakfast. Get in here. Did you wake Marco?”

“Uh. No. And I wouldn’t advise it.”

“Whatever.”

He didn’t want to enter the kitchen. At least in here, he could defend himself against sudden knife attacks with the old-person furniture.

“Are you going to stay out there all day?” Eren asked, moving into the doorway so that he could look in on Jean.

He was in his underwear and a tank top and was outlined in sunlight.

He looked like a bedraggled angel.

He was also holding a frying pan that he’d obviously just been washing, if the suds dripping from his hands were any indication.

Jean was suddenly very scared of that frying pan.

 _This is ridiculous,_ he reminded himself, _He had all yesterday morning to kill me. Why would he feel any stronger an inclination now?_

Sometimes when Jean was sleepy, he had stupid ideas.

Eren was squinting at him. “What are you looking at?”

Oh god.

Eren was going to kill him.

This was definitely going to happen.

Eren stepped toward him. “Why do you look like a trapped rodent?”

He looked like a trapped rodent because he felt like a trapped rodent.

“Jean, you’re being super weird.”

“Would you PLEASE have this conversation elsewhere?” called Marco’s irritated voice from within the bedroom.

While Eren was distracted, Jean made a beeline for the kitchen, trying to grab a plate of eggs and bacon and sit himself down at the table before Eren came back.

“Wow,” Eren muttered, re-entering the room just as Jean situated himself, scratching his already messy head, “Marco’s kinda scary in the morning.”

“Uh, yeah. You should probably make some coffee before he wakes up for good.”

He pretended to be focused on eating. Or he tried to pretend.

He’d forgotten to grab a fork.

Eren noticed.

“Here, idiot. Didn’t plan to eat with your face, did you?”

He set it down gently by Jean’s hand.

No stabbing of his extremities involved.

And then, Stupid Just-Woke-Up Jean went back to bed and let Halfway Normal Everyday Jean take full control.

“Thanks, Eren.”

“Yeah.” Eren cleared away the non-perishables in front of the chair to Jean’s left and sat down. “I put in enough water for some coffee for you, too. Just so you know. You seem like you need it.”

“Sometimes I get paranoid when I wake up.”

“I noticed.”

Chewing noises filled the room. Jean noticed that Eren seemed to have chopped up some red peppers and put them in the eggs. It was a nice touch.

Eren had taken crunchy bacon, Jean less thoroughly cooked bacon. Jean wondered to himself if Marco would take the middle ground when he finally woke up. It would fit nicely.

It all fit kind of nicely.

Jean felt his gaze gravitate toward Eren. He didn’t usually wear this minimalistic of clothing. It looked good, despite the redness of his skin that had only worsened over the past couple days.

“Get a good, long look, will you. Make me feel as uncomfortable as anything.”

“Oh - um - sorry. Er. Sorry.”

“No problem. Take off your pants. I’ll stare at your junk for five minutes. See how it makes you feel.”

“Please don’t make me do that.”

“Nah, I won’t. Only because I don’t have the energy yet. Later, you pay.”

Jean wasn’t entirely sure whether or not Eren meant that threat.

The coffee machine beeped, just in time for Marco to droop into sight, mumbling nearly incoherently, “Smells good in here.”

Jean wasn’t sure if his mind was just in the gutter from accidentally giving Eren the once-over, but he couldn’t help but notice that Marco was also in his underwear.

Like.

 _Just_ his underwear.

And it also fit pretty nicely.

And Marco’s hair was all untidy like Eren’s and probably Jean’s. In a nice sort of way. It was all pretty nice.

And then Jean’s brain went somewhere that he definitely wasn’t going to mention to his two best friends.

And, finally, somehow, this brought back the memory of him and Eren in the park two nights ago, giving him a painful reminder of something else that he couldn’t mention to Marco in particular.

Marco opened the cupboard, withdrew a sizable mug, filled it with coffee, and sat down on Jean’s right. He was now sitting between Eren and Marco.

Of course, Thinker-of-Dirty-Thoughts Jean had a field day with this. Somewhat Sane Jean flipped Thinker-of-Dirty-Thoughts off with disgust.

“You should really eat something, Marco,” Eren commented.

“Not until coffee happens.”

“Coffee’s happening right now.”

“Coffee’s not happening enough,” grumbled Marco over the rim of his mug.

Eren snorted and got up, filled a plate with food, and set it in front of Marco. “Eat.”

“Okay.”

God.

Would these two dorks ever stop being perfect?

Jean sneaked a glance at Marco’s plate. Eren had given him well-done bacon. Marco noticed this a moment later. With a look of mild distaste on his face, he got up, bringing his plate with him, and came back within seconds with medium-cooked bacon.

“I fucking knew it,” Jean muttered triumphantly. Eren and Marco both looked up at him. “Our bacon preferences fit together perfectly.”

Eren frowned down at his plate, then looked over at Jean’s, and then Marco’s. “Hey, they do. Like, I’ve got the _good_ stuff, Marco’s got the decent stuff, and you took the floppy, slimy shit.”

“Hey, now. Just because you’ll never appreciate the benefits of soft bacon doesn’t mean you should yuck my yum.”

Marco grimaced. “Did you _really_ just say that?”

“Hush. You’re not allowed to snark until you’ve finished your breakfast.”

“But Eren, this is a rare opportunity to see the wild Marco in its natural state - without its coffee having kicked in yet, it turns into a total buttface!”

“Ha, ha.”

“Interesting about the bacon, though,” Eren repeated, giving Marco a look that Jean wasn’t sure how to interpret.

“Anyway, if you don’t like soft bacon, why did you make any?”

“I forgot to ask your preferences and figured it wouldn’t hurt to get all my bases covered.”

“You are God,” Marco mumbled through a mouthful of eggs. He was slowly starting to look more animated.

“Thank you, Freckled Jesus.”

Jean nearly spit out his food at the memory of Marco’s most successful Omegle run. Ah, the good old days.

“So,” Eren began, having finished off his plate, “What do you guys want to do today?”

“Mall?” Jean suggested hopefully.

“It’s supposed to rain later. We’d just barely get there before we got flushed out.”

“I want to go swimming,” Marco put in, getting up to fetch himself a napkin and returning, patting his face, “I think we can swim for an hour or so, and then maybe ice cream and lunch, and then it’ll be raining, so we can come back here for movies? What do you guys think?”

“Back from the dead, I see.”

“Coffee, bacon, and eggs. All thanks to Eren.”

“I contributed meaningful conversation.”

“Ah, yes, bacon-based compatibility. So meaningful.”

Eren twisted his mouth in contemplation. “I like the plan, but we might have to drive down the road to that RedBox. We’re a bit low on gas.”

“Then fill it up?”

“Money.”

“Right.”

“How many bars was on the gauge last you saw it?”

“Three.”

“We’ll be fine.”

“I guess.”

“Jean, you eat slowly.”

“I savor my dishes. It’s the French in me.”

“I do, too. I just do it faster.”

“Gobbling is an insult to the chef, right, Eren?”

“Your face is an insult to the chef.”

Jean rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll just stuff it in with no regard for _manners_.” He then grabbed a fistful of egg and shoved it in his mouth.

“The most elegant of men.”

“Truly.”

Eventually, Jean did finish his eggs and the three dressed themselves and headed for the beach. By the time they got there, clouds were already gathering on the horizon. Eren, shading his eyes, commented on this.

“Those look pretty dark. Might be a full-on storm coming our way.”

“Well, at least we don’t have to share the beach with too many people while we’re here,” Jean replied, rooting around in the bag they’d brought. “Get over here so I can sun-proof you.”

“Meh, if those clouds are coming in, I should be okay.”

Marco raised an eyebrow with concern. “Are you sure? We shouldn’t underestimate the sun - especially you. Jean and I are extraordinary exceptions.”

They were indeed. Any light sunburns Jean had sustained over the past couple days had easily faded into a tan, while Marco had a tendency to freckle like it was going out of style. Eren was the only one of the three who ever had to worry about the sun's effects.

“To be honest, I don’t think it’s possible for me to get any redder.”

“Let him be, Marco. He wants to challenge the sun to a battle of wills.”

“Definitely. Hey, you big ball of burning helium. You’re a jackass.”

Eren’s use of language made Marco slap a hand over his mouth and glance frantically around to ensure there weren’t any impressionable young’uns about. Eren and Jean laughed at him.

“Well, what if some two-year-old picked up what you guys were saying? That wouldn’t be funny.”

“ _Actually_ ,” Jean chuckled.

Marco threw his hands up in the air. “Get married. You two would raise the most fantastic little hellions together.”

A deep red stain scorched across Jean’s cheeks in less time than it would take to say Two days ago. Marco pretended not to notice. Eren heaved a sigh.

If only he knew, Eren thought to himself, sparing a glance at Marco. The young man in question was looking back at him. He winked with the eye that Jean couldn’t see. Eren forced himself not to smile.

They would definitely get Jean in on this somehow.

“Come on!” Jean shouted, ripping his t-shirt off and running down the beach. “Last one in does dishes tonight!”

“Oh, shoot,” Marco groaned as he looked down at his sandals and Eren guffawed, effortlessly kicking off his flip-flops and following Jean.

Still, he good-naturedly removed his shoes and shirt, joining his friends in the rolling waves. Jean had swum a few meters out, jumping the waves as he waited for Eren to catch up and Marco to wade after.

Eren and Jean quickly fell into their favorite rhythm, waiting through the smaller waves until a larger one gathered, and jumping right into the middle of it, letting it carry them both to the shore. Marco just let them do as they pleased, stroking easily through the water and occasionally coming back to make sure they didn’t hurt themselves. Before they knew it, small raindrops were disturbing the surface of the ocean and everyone started to leave. The three of them ran up the beach to towel themselves off before their towels became saturated with water, and then draped one towel over Marco’s head so the tallest boy could shelter the other two on the way to the place they’d agreed to get lunch together - a modest, greasy eatery called “The Rogue”.

Jean and Marco both got fish n’ chips. Eren got a burger.

“Does it hurt yet?” Jean asked, pressing his thumb into Eren’s flaming skin and drawing it back to see the white indentation. Eren sent him his finest death glare.

Marco rolled his eyes and tucked in. With Eren’s eyes upon him, Jean followed suit.

One bite gave him pause. “Oh.”

“Hm?”

“This is _awful_.”

“Really?” Marco asked, eyes wide. “Mine’s pretty good.”

Jean scowled and offered a piece to Marco, who bit into it and chewed contemplatively. He hadn’t even finished chewing before he was shaking his head.

“Tastes just like mine, Jean.”

“You live in the Midwest, Marco. I live on the _West Coast_.”

“I live on a Coast, too. Give me a bite.”

Jean complied, and Eren’s reaction was the same as Marco’s. “It’s pretty good, I’d say.”

“Seriously?! That’s it, you two are coming back to Seattle with me. You’ve got to taste real fish fry. There’s this great place right on the shore, called Benny’s - god, all other places will be forever ruined for you.”

“Cool story. You want my burger?”

“Yeah. Take this, I don’t want it.”

Jean looked across the table at Marco. He was smiling peacefully.

“Hey, Marco.”

“Hey, Jean.”

“What’s up?”

“I like it when you two get along.”

Jean took a bite of Eren’s burger. He could do without the mustard, but at least it was better than that lousy fish. Eren seemed to be enjoying it, though. That was good.

He was struck again by how well the three of them seemed to fit together.

He had to stop thinking like that. It was bad enough that he’d kissed Eren.

Or Eren had kissed him.

Whatever.

Marco had a nice mouth.

_Fucking stop that._

He had to distract himself.

“What did you guys talk about when I was asleep?”

Eren’s reply was automatic, as if he’d practiced. “More about me being pan. You know the drill.”

Eren being pan.

Eren crying and telling him he liked him.

Eren’s mouth on his.

He wasn’t doing a very good job of distracting himself.

You know the drill, Eren had said.

The drill?

What was the drill?

Did the drill involve tears and confessions and -

That.

He felt a surge of some odd emotion rush through him. Was it jealousy? Why would he be jealous? Eren could do what he wanted with his mouth. No, it wasn’t quite jealousy. What could it be if not jealousy?

Satisfaction.

Some weird satisfaction was sneaking into his brain. Was he happy for his friends? Did he actually _like_ the idea of the two of them together? Well, he should try to be happy for them. That’s what a _good_ friend would do. That’s what Marco would do. Marco was a good friend.

Marco wouldn’t kiss Eren if Jean had kissed him twenty-four-hours earlier. Marco wouldn’t kiss a guy who was in the middle of a sexuality crisis.

Nothing had happened.

That was the only explanation. He was jumping to conclusions, and stupid conclusions, too. He had a habit of doing that.

But what if Eren had told Marco about the kiss?

The one that _actually happened_?

Shit.

Shitshitshit.

“Jean?” Eren asked, breaking into his inner tirade. “Are you spacing again?”

“Um. No.”

He had to think of a clever way to ask Eren if he’d told Marco without alerting Marco to the fact that there was something he wasn’t being told. He wasn’t very good at doing that.

He had to communicate with his eyes.

Eren abruptly stopped eating. “Jean, why are you staring at me like that?”

Fuck.

Marco leaned forward. “Are you feeling alright, Jean? You’ve been acting oddly all day. We can go home, if you like - I don’t want you getting sick.”

Sweet Jesus. Sweet Freckled Jesus. This was a disaster of epic proportions.

When Jean didn’t answer his question, Marco hesitantly reached forward, laying his palm on Jean’s forehead, the other on his own to compare. Jean seemed fine.

“Jean,” he sighed. “You’re perfectly okay. What are you so troubled about? Do you need someone to talk to about something?”

Jean looked up at him, eyes wide and nervous. Something clicked in Marco’s brain.

The kiss.

Jean must have been awake last night when he and Eren had kissed. Had he heard what happened? Their conversation got pretty intense, and it would make sense if Jean had awoken without them noticing. Marco kissing Eren after Jean kissed him would be a pretty shocking thing to wake up to, not to mention their conversation about getting Jean to join them in a three-way relationship. Regardless of what Eren had insisted, that sort of thing was really weird to some people.

God, he was just the worst friend ever. Jean must be so mad.

“Jean,” he started, searching for words to say, “I’m… I’m sorry. You… you could have told us.”

Eren looked up, frowning. “Told us what?”

Jean, meanwhile, just looked horrified. “You - you knew? About -”

“Well, from the way you were acting, I just… I figured it out.”

Eren was squinting, glancing between the two of them like they’d both gone crazy. Then, there was a sudden moment where his face became still, and he then frantically gestured for Marco to stop, trying not to let Jean notice.

“Oh, cut it out, Eren,” Jean exhaled, “The jig is up. We can’t just keep hiding it from him.”

“Wait,” Marco gasped, “Eren - you knew?!”

“Um… Of course he did. He was there? He… participated?”

“Participa -” Marco cut himself off. Oh. _That’s_ what Jean was worried about. He didn’t even know that Eren had told him about the _first_ kiss! He suppressed a sigh of relief, scrounging together words to cover up the mix-up. “Uh, right. I - I can’t believe you two didn’t tell me! It’s not like I would have judged.”

Eren looked torn between relief and horror. He clearly didn’t want to be talking about this with a conscious Jean in the general vicinity, but he was also glad to have avoided Marco spilling everything. He managed to spit out, “Well, uh, not much to tell, really. It’s all in the past.”

Jean gave Eren what looked to be a hurt glance - a hopeful sign, Marco thought, though he didn’t particularly like seeing Jean with that expression - but agreed. “Y-yeah. It happened. And things were weird as hell afterward, but - I think everything’s okay now. Right?”

Eren’s gaze was searching. “Yeah. Right. It’s okay.”

Marco wasn’t sure whether the exchange bore good tidings or not. The rest of the meal was mostly silent, as was their walk to the ice cream parlor.

Jean piped up before they went in, “It’s the same people as last time. And Hanji will probably remember you.”

“Hanji? Oh,” Marco gasped, remembering. The nice lady. The nice and _extremely enthusiastic_ lady.

However, upon entering the building, Marco realized that Hanji, his favorite server that he’d ever met, wasn’t in. There was only the blond guy - Erwin, he thought - and another, even taller blond man that he didn’t quite recognize. Well, at least Levi wasn’t there. Marco was more scared of him than he’d like to admit.

When they heard the bell ringing, Erwin and the mystery man both looked up, Erwin giving them a grin of recognition, the other raising his eyebrow curiously. He didn’t seem terribly intimidating, Marco assessed, just very large. He couldn’t be that bad if Erwin had him around.

“Hey, Erwin!” Jean called, pointing Marco out to him. “Do you remember this guy? He’s the one who was here with me five years ago!”

“Perhaps not quite as well as Hanji would remember him, but yes, I do believe I recognize your face.” He gave Marco a nod of the head, a small smile curling his lips upward. “Have any of you met our mastermind, Mike?”

“I don’t believe I have,” Marco replied, extending a hand to the stranger. As he grasped Marco’s hand in his far larger one, Mike jerked Marco forward before anyone else could react, inhaling deeply through his nostrils as Marco glanced back at Eren and Jean in panic.

Mike gave what seemed to be a nod of approval, releasing Marco’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Marco. Cookies and cream for today?”

Marco blinked, Eren and Jean glancing humorously at each other behind his back. Mike was already shaping up to be as entertaining as Hanji or Levi. “Um,” Marco erred, “That… actually sounds perfect. Y-yeah, I’ll take that.”

Mike nodded once more, turning to Eren and Jean, pointing to each of them in turn. “Mint shake,” he decided for Eren, “And mocha chip,” he prescribed Jean.

Eren stared blankly at him. “That sounds a million times better than what I was gonna get,” he gasped in awe. Jean nodded slowly, jaw hanging wide open. Mike gave a knowing smirk and stepped away to retrieve the ice cream.

“Where did you _get_ him?” Jean whispered urgently to Erwin once Mike was out of earshot. “Because I think I want one.”

“As I said,” Erwin replied, “He’s our mastermind. He’s been with us since our founding, being our other-other husband, and he has a talent for knowing what customers want when they don’t know themselves. He also comes up with our mixed flavors.”

“Where was he five years ago, the last time we were here?” Marco asked curiously.

“Oh, he may have been at a business negotiation. This isn’t his only job - he also rents out beach houses, providing the funds to keep us in business here. It’s an unstable career, owning a beachside ice cream parlor. He may even have rented you the place you’re staying.”

“Doubtful,” Jean countered, eyebrows furrowed. “I talked to a guy named Nile.”

“We know him,” Mike cut in, handing Jean and Marco their cones and then upending a blender over a plastic cup, “Old friend of ours. Also a bit of a rival. Next time, come to me. I’ve got way better housing options.”

“Any options would be better than where we’re staying,” Eren grumbled, sending Jean a dirty look.

“Don’t tell me - Street corner, a couple blocks down, blue facade?”

“Jean insisted.” Eren took his shake, still staring Jean down in the corner of his eye.

“Well. I guess you have your reasons.” He turned to Erwin. “What excuse are we going to use to give them discounted ice cream this time?”

“You really don’t have to,” Marco objected. “We have money! And you should probably at least try to earn some money while Hanji’s not here to insist otherwise.”

“Reverse psychology - I like it. Thirty percent.”

“That wasn’t my intention,” came the weak reply. Nonetheless, he followed Mike to the cash register and paid the requested amount, shoving a ten in the overstuffed tip jar when the shop’s owners weren’t looking.

“Want to sit down?” Jean asked. “Wouldn’t wanna get this stuff wet.”

“No problem,” Eren snarked, waving his covered cup in Jean’s face. Still, he conceded to taking a seat at one of the tables.

It was remarkable how fast Eren and Jean were able to distract themselves from their scuffles sometimes, Marco thought to himself. Maybe they hadn’t forgotten about it, not completely, but at the very least, they didn’t seem to be sitting on the whole deal, letting it eat them. He wished he could do that sometimes.

“So,” Eren began, “What movies do you want to watch? Because we’re definitely playing the line game. No buts.”

“Oh, god, yes,” Jean exclaimed, eyes bright with excitement. “We have to do The Princess Bride, and I have to be Inigo.”

“You don’t get to pick a character for yourself! If you’re Inigo, I’m Westley.”

“What - wait, but _I’m_ always Westley!”

Marco really wished he had that sort of talent.

Once they’d finished their ice cream(and thanked Mike copiously for being so amazing), they broke out the towels again and raced home in the steadily worsening rain, then into their room to change into dry clothes.

Perhaps they shouldn’t have all gone in at the same time.

“Please try not to get sand on my mattress. That’s not going to be pleasant to sleep in.”

“Shit,” Jean gasped, looking down as he forced his briefs on. “Hold on Marco, I can clean that up. You’re not going to have to sleep on it.”

“Oh, _god_ ,” Eren groaned. “I’m even worse than I thought.”

“Holy - Look, Marco, you can tell where one sunburn ends and the other begins!”

Eren let out a high-pitched screaming sound as Marco turned around, bumping into him in the process. “DON’T… TOUCH… ME.”

“It can’t possibly hurt that much!” Jean objected.

“HOW WOULD YOU KNOW. TELL ME THAT, PLEASE.”

“Fair point.”

Marco backed up against the dresser as he pulled his t-shirt on. “Don’t punch each other. I don’t think I could get past the crossfire.”

Eventually, all three of them fully dressed, they sort of collapsed out of the room - Eren’s sunburn providing a painful objection - and made for the car.

“Marco gets shotgun.”

“What?! Why?”

“Because he doesn’t trust you not to poke him when he’s driving.”

“Okay, I haven’t _intentionally_ touched him since it started hurting -”

It was a small miracle that the three of them managed to make it all the way to the RedBox and back in one piece(though perhaps Eren did, technically, leave a few pieces of skin behind), but they did. They popped a pizza in the oven and squeezed onto the couch together, Marco in the middle so that Jean and Eren didn’t further irritate each other. They’d rented two movies - The Princess Bride, as Jean had insisted, and also Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World.

“Alright,” Marco mediated, opening Scott Pilgrim first to put it in the DVD player, “It’s already been established that I’m doing dishes tonight, but we play for dishwashing shifts for the remainder of vacation. The person who recites their lines with the least accuracy must do all dishes for the next three days. The one who wins is exempt for the rest of our time here.

“We’ll play twice. Each of us has a role in each movie that we must imitate. There will be one more role which can be recited by anyone for bonus points. May the games begin. Why am I the one who has to go through that whole spiel every time we do this.”

“Because you’re the best announcer,” Jean snickered. “Prepare to royally lose, Jaeger.”

“No fucking way. You may have the edge with The Princess Bride, but I _own_ Scott Pilgrim. Tell us our roles, O Freckled One.”

“Jean, you’re Envy Adams. Eren, you’re Julie Powers. Who am I?”

Eren and Jean conferred with one another for a short moment, then returned with their verdict. “Marco,” Jean announced, “You’re Matthew Patel.”

“The rhyming guy? Oh, no!”

“We decided that it’s not too many lines for you to remember. Besides, since he rhymes, you can pretty much guess what’s coming next,” Eren informed him.

“Well… Okay. Have you decided on the bonus character?”

“Wallace Wells!” Eren retorted. “Who else?”

This, Marco seemed to approve. “Alright. Let’s start this.”

Midway through the movie, the three of them were neck-and-neck with one another. Marco had done about as well as he’d expected with Matthew Patel’s lines, though he’d made up for it by reciting Wallace’s “L-word” rant almost verbatim, whereas Eren and Jean had only been able to keep up at the line “Seven. Deadly. Exes.” Eren’s recital of Julie’s bleeped-out monologue was a triumph of unprecedented proportions(though Jean argued that the fact that Eren actually said the curse words she was implied to say should detract points), quickly followed by Jean making the other two wheeze with laughter by telling Scott Pilgrim in his most seductive voice that he should “So. Totally. Come.”

All three were thankful that their particular roles didn’t have any significant part in the ending, giving them an excuse to just sit back and watch Scott defeat Gideon and make off with Ramona. And then, of course, Jean and Eren had their Post-Scott-Pilgrim argument.

“What makes the movie and books great,” Eren asserted, “is the very fact that Scott is actually a total jerk. Like, he’s really not a nice person. O’Malley elaborates on this a bit more in the book, particularly with the presence of Nega-Scott -”

“That’s not what I have a problem with, okay? I get it - but I feel like Michael Cera doesn’t give that impression. I feel like they shouldn’t have had Mr. Doe-Eyes play the asshole main character.”

“I think he’s perfect in the role and that you are very, very wrong.”

Marco cut in, “Are we playing with The Princess Bride or not? Should we just watch the movie?”

“No WAY,” Jean and Eren answered as one. Jean continued, “We at least need to do the hill scene.”

“So are you saying you guys want to play Buttercup and Westley again?”

“I already said I wanted to be Inigo earlier! You should be Westley for once, Marco.”

“No, I think we’re decided. Eren, as always, you are Buttercup. Jean, you’re Westley.”

“Well,” Eren sighed, “If we’re going the traditional route, you’ve gotta be Vizzini. Bonus Inigo - and are we doing Fezzik, too?”

“Nah,” Jean answered, “I feel like we just can’t quite touch Fezzik. Let’s leave the big guy alone.”

“Roger that, Farm Boy.”

“As you wish.”

With that, they began their second movie. They had a little less energy this time around, having already worn themselves out on the first one and also all being more fond of this one and not wanting to ruin anything with their own obnoxiousness. There were, of course, several lines they just couldn’t leave alone - Marco got every single “INCONCEIVABLE!” right on the nose, plus a few more besides, shouting it every time he noticed one of his companions on the verge of sleep, and Eren and Jean, of course, perfectly executed the hilltop scene, having constructed a cascade of cushions to roll down when the time came.

“AAAAS YOUUUUU WIIIIIIISH,” Jean shouted as he threw himself downward, tumbling dramatically over himself.

“Oh, my sweet Westley,” Eren gasped in his most feminine voice, “What have I done?!” And he threw himself down beside Jean, both making sure to produce as many variations on the onomatopoeia “oof” as they could come up with as Buttercup and Westley tumbled down the hill on the screen.

In addition, Jean made a valiant effort at Westley’s “to the pain” speech, concluding with a terribly formidable deliverance of the line, “Drop. Your. Sword.” And, of course, they all repeated and repeated “My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.”

By the time that the credits were rolling, none of the three wanted to get up. Eren and Jean were both leaning heavily on Marco, whose head was lolling forward as he fought sleep. They were all still in the clothes they’d changed into earlier in the day, and Marco figured it would be more comfortable if they could at least change into their snugglies.

“Eren,” he yawned, nudging each of his companions in turn, “Jean. Come on, let me up.” Eren gave no response, and Jean only shifted to nuzzle deeper into his shoulder. He let out a defeated sigh. He didn’t sleep well fully clothed, but he supposed he would just have to put up with it for tonight.

He fell back and let his head rest atop Jean’s. Something was tugging on his mind.

That kiss.

His, with Eren.

His eyelashes fluttered and he breathed deep, in, out, gaze sliding downward, toward Jean. He felt so bad for not telling him. Awful, even. Jean didn’t deserve that. Did anyone?

Jean was asleep. Eren was asleep.

He could at least get this off his chest.

“I kissed Eren,” he whispered, letting his eyes slide closed.

Jean’s eyes snapped open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll post the link to the tumblr post when it's up!


	3. Hypothermia and Full-Frontal Smooches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY THAT THIS TOOK SO LONG  
> I have an excuse, I swear! Actually, a couple of them. I got sick and then when I got back to school I was behind on a bunch of things and now I've got AP exams, but I wanted to post this before that happened because there's a couple things going on right now.  
> One! I'm planning another Erejeanmarco fic, in the Minus One and Man Down series - and it's gonna be another multichapter! It might be a while before it's posted, because I wanna get at least two chapters finished so that if I run into stuff again I won't have to go an entire month without updating, like this one.  
> Two! With the extra time I have after APs are over, I'm gonna be working on finishing the script for my someday-to-be webcomic, so once the other multichapter is done, updates might be a little erratic. I don't intend to stop writing fanfiction, but they'll definitely be less frequent than I've been doing lately.  
> Thank you all so much for your feedback over the course of this fic! I really loved working on it, and I hope you all have a wonderful day! :)

Jean’s and Marco’s second kiss was a lot better than their first.

Most wouldn’t consider it much of a kiss at all, with them being outside in the middle of a major thunderstorm, water flooding through their hair, down their foreheads, into their eyes, noses, and mouths, and the distant, panicked screams of Eren Jaeger ringing through the darkness. Most would say that sounded like an absolutely horrific alternative to just about anything.

Still, at least it was better than their first.

Marco felt himself stir awake at some point in the middle of the night, a familiar weight absent from his right side and a piping hot body clinging to his left. The shack itself seemed to be quaking with the force of the storm outside, and Marco realized with a jolt that the lights had been on when he’d fallen asleep. Either Jean had turned them off when he’d departed from Marco’s side, or they were in the midst of a blackout.

More concerning was the fact that he desperately needed to pee. And their bathroom was outdoors.

He could bear through it until the storm passed, right? The best course of action would be to just go back to sleep. Just lean on Eren and let himself relax.

About five minutes later, it was clear to him that he wouldn’t be able to hold it. He needed to go to the bathroom _now_. Unfortunately, he reached this conclusion just as a particularly bright shock of lightning illuminated the house, followed by an extremely forceful round of thunder that rocked the sky.

He gritted his teeth, already dreading what he was about to do, gently lifting Eren’s head from his shoulder and guiding his body into a lying-down position on the couch. From there, he anxiously approached the kitchen.

Marco stopped in his tracks. A flickering candle was on the table, illuminating Jean’s face. It was clear Jean had been sitting there for quite a while, leaning his head on one hand.

“Hey, Jean,” he said gently, though not without urgency. “What are you doing up?”

Jean slid his eyes from the flickering flame to Marco’s face. His expression was difficult to read, which was unusual for Jean. Marco felt uneasiness stir in his gut when Jean didn’t answer.

“Well,” he stalled, “I’m going to the bathroom. Maybe you should try and get some sleep. We might finally go to the mall tomorrow.”

“It’s pretty bad out there,” Jean replied, voice sounding curiously defeated. “You should wait it out.”

“I figured the same,” Marco said, brightening up for an instant when he finally got a response, “but I just couldn’t. I’ve _really_ got to go. I’ll be quick, I promise.”

Jean didn’t say anything for a moment, having turned back to the candle, chin cupped in his hand, but eventually murmured, “Okay.”

With that, Marco dashed out to the porch, making his way to the end in the poor lighting, scrabbling for the doorknob for a second before managing to lock himself in the bathroom. As he went about his business, he heard ragged branches banging against the side of the little establishment. It was pretty unnerving and he definitely wanted to get back inside as soon as possible.

He finished quickly and made the sprint back to the kitchen door. He then grabbed the handle and was shocked to find that it wouldn’t turn. He didn’t remember agreeing to lock this door. Jean was just on the other side, though - he would be able to hear Marco knocking. He’d let Marco back in.

A full five minutes of knocking later, however, and Marco was forced to concede defeat. If he knocked any louder, he’d wake Eren up. Perhaps Jean had just gone to bed, like Marco had told him to.

Marco was becoming colder and wetter by the minute, silently thankful that he was still wearing a couple of layers of clothing rather than just his underwear, like he normally slept in. Perhaps the front door was still unlocked. They hadn’t said anything about locking either door, after all, so chances were one of them had to be open. He allowed himself just a moment in the shelter of the house before dashing around the side to reach the front.

To his relief, the front door was indeed open, and, teeth chattering, he let himself in, looking around to see if Jean had laid himself down next to Eren. No. Marco peeked in the pitch-dark bedroom. He wasn’t in his bunk, either.

Curiosity growing, he entered the kitchen once more. There was Jean, in the exact same position Marco had left him, perfectly awake, still staring at the candle, looking perhaps a bit more panicked than before. “Jean?”

“I,” Jean stammered, “I don’t know why I did that.”

“Did what? Didn’t you hear me knocking? Where were you?”

Jean visibly gulped. “R-right here.”

Marco felt himself frowning, the pieces coming together in his head. “You mean - did you... lock the door?”

Jean nodded.

“With me out there?!”

Jean nodded again, panicked look growing.

“And you didn’t let me back in? When I was _knocking and knocking_?!”

Jean’s head sank to the table. He covered it with his hands. Marco had never seen Jean in that position, aside from when they were in sixth grade together and Jean had told him that he was moving back to Seattle.

“Why?!” Marco demanded, shocked, betrayed. That could actually have been life-threatening. Didn’t his best friend care? What the _flying fuck_ was wrong with him? He fought to keep himself calm, conscious of Eren sleeping in the adjoining room, but with Jean so unresponsive directly after admitting to something like that - well, he had every right to be both angry and confused.

“I don’t know,” Jean moaned, muffled by the table. “I think I’m mad at you, which is ridiculous and _really fucking hypocritical_ , but I think I’m mad.”

“ _You’re_ mad,” Marco hissed, teeth clenched, “at _me_? When you’re the guy who just locked me outside in the pouring rain?!”

Jean let out a long, drawn-out noise that sounded vaguely frustrated, yet also repentant. Finally, he bluntly said, lifting his head, “You kissed Eren.”

Marco stared at Jean for a long moment. “And instead of _sitting down and talking to me about it_ ,” he whispered, furiously, “Which you know I would have been _perfectly reasonable about,_ you locked me outside. In the _pouring rain._ ”

“I know.”

“I could have died out there.”

“I know.”

“And you still did it.”

“I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m so sorry.”

“That doesn’t make this okay,” Marco growled, his normal ability to think rationally and forgive others for their mistakes quelled by his exhaustion combined with being soaked to the bone, “Sorry doesn’t cut it right now, Jean. Do you want me to lock _you_ outside? Is that what you want? Because you kissed Eren, too. Equal crime means equal punishment.”

“Marco,” Jean stuttered, tentatively lifting his wide eyes to land on Marco’s face, “You’re… You’re scaring me.”

“You scared me when you _locked me outside in the pouring rain,_ Jean.”

“I’m really sorry.”

Marco seethed for a moment more, then forced himself to relax. “I’m going to bed,” he said carefully, measuring out his words. He couldn’t help including, “Maybe I’ll be less infuriated by the very sight of you in the morning.”

He turned away, and suddenly he heard the chair screech against the floor and felt Jean’s hand around his wrist. And then, somehow, Jean’s lips were pressed to his.

He smacked Jean away, staring in shock at his best friend, then at the hand he’d used to slap him. Jean was cradling his cheek, looking stunned that Marco had raised a hand to him. Marco felt that same stunned feeling in his chest, coiling, turning into harsh, stinging regret. How could he have said all that? How could he have slapped his friend, when he’d only done exactly what Marco had been hoping for him to do for ages and ages?

“I’m,” he gasped, “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Jean, you didn’t - you didn’t deserve -”

Jean made a dash for the door. Marco watched him force himself out into the rain, sprinting in bare feet down the walkway, away, away, the door hanging open behind him.

He felt the motions happening to him before he realized that he was chasing after Jean, slamming the door hard enough to shake the entire shack, screaming Jean's name, desperate not to lose him, not to let him get hurt in some way by the force of the storm.

Jean, he realized quickly, was following their usual route to the playground. He was barely visible up ahead, but Marco could still see him, running wildly down the street. His only hope was that Jean would be okay, all thoughts of his own having hurt him evaporated.

He was vaguely aware of some fading voice calling his name, some faintly familiar voice, but then it was gone and he was dashing up the path and thank goodness that swingset was made of wood and not metal, because there Jean was, leaning up against it, panting hard. He raced forward, calling Jean's name, tears and rainwater streaking down his face.

And Jean looked at him and he yelled, "I wanted to kiss you, too! I wanted to kiss you, Marco, and I'm sorry I locked you out and I'm sorry I forced you! I just," he seemed to choke on his words, "I'm so sorry, I didn't want you to die. I never wanted you to die," he sobbed, "I love you. I love you and I love Eren."

Marco's face was contorted in pain. "Me, too," he sniffed, "I'm sorry for hitting you and for getting mad. I'm sorry. I love you. And I wanted to kiss you. I wanted to... Just. Not like that."

The rain battered the ground and Marco briefly thought he heard that person calling his name again. Or maybe it was Jean's name. Perhaps both.

And he stepped forward and Jean stepped forward and that was when their second kiss happened.

Eren came awake when he heard a loud slamming noise, feeling the house itself quiver with the sound. In his confusion, he assumed it to be thunder.

A moment later, he did wonder where Marco was. And Jean. Why was he lying down? He wasn’t used to being woken up - he normally did wake up obnoxiously early, yes, no matter how late he went to bed, but his own body was always the one to make the decision for him, not his surroundings. He found himself unpleasantly disoriented by the experience.

 _They must have gotten into their beds at some point,_ he thought absently, listening for the sound of Jean’s snores coming from the bedroom. He couldn’t detect them, but the rain was pounding on the roof and he could certainly be missing them due to that.

Well, if he was awake, he might as well make himself more comfortable. He forced himself off the couch, careful not to trip over displaced cushions, and had made it halfway through the darkened bedroom before he’d realized something.

Jean and Marco weren’t there.

He frantically patted their mattresses to make sure, coming away with a faint feeling of panic beginning to set in. Where could they be? They hadn’t gone outside in this mess, right?

The kitchen. He still hadn’t checked there.

He dashed into the living room and past the door to the unused bedroom, throwing the kitchen door open wide to find nothing but a sputtering candle on the table. Staring at its flame, he felt real fear pervade his thoughts, and he suddenly had a sneaking suspicion that the thing that had woken him up hadn’t been thunder.

Not stopping to think, he blew out the candle, pelted out the door and threw himself onto their usual route, bellowing Jean and Marco’s names into the night as he went. Only once he reached the fork where they branched off either to head for the playground or for the beach did he pause, considering his options. It was longer to the playground, so he’d better just take a look at the beach.

As he reached the top of the rise that led to the beach, he saw in a flash of light that it was empty of people. Losing no momentum, he swung himself around a light post and sprinted in the opposite direction, screaming out once more.

His feet were bare, rain clouding his vision as he ran, throat feeling as if it might split open if he yelled any louder, and every flash of lightning made him more terrified, scanning the skyline to see if there were any fires spewing orange light into the sky. He called out again, finally turning onto the path to the playground, going full speed, already looking around for his friends, and very suddenly skidding to a halt when he finally spotted them.

“You _motherfuckers,_ ” he swore forcefully, watching them, their tongues in each other’s mouths. They both seemed to jump, tearing away from each other to look at him. A tense moment passed. Then, unexpectedly, Jean burst out laughing. Marco quickly followed suit.

“What are you laughing at?!” Eren exasperatedly asked them, “Do you know how worried I was about you? What are you doing, fucking _making out_ in the middle of a lightning storm? Are you playing some sick joke?!”

“N-no,” Jean snickered, stumbling forward. He reached out and pressed a kiss to Eren’s lips, shocking him into silence. He broke the kiss to stare into his eyes, a huge, goofy grin on his face. “I fucking love you, Eren.”

Before Eren could pull himself together enough to react to this development, Marco was hugging him from behind, lifting him off the ground and spinning, laughing and laughing as they went, and Eren found himself shrieking wildly, “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?!”

Jean jumped up and down, punching the air and cheering, “Let it out, Eren! Unleash your pissedness! Be one with the storm!” Eren might have punched him if Marco hadn’t pinned his arms to his sides. He thrashed his legs in the air instead.

“You guys fucking left the house in this shit - IN A LIGHTNING STORM - and just KISSED EACH OTHER!”

“Sorry!” Marco apologized, the effect essentially ruined by his uncontrollable laughter, “We didn’t mean to scare you! The kiss just happened!”

“I WANT TO GO BACK HOME!”

“Never!” Jean cried. “Keep yelling! Let everything out! I’m tired of all these stupid secrets!”

“I WISH WE COULD JUST TALK THIS THROUGH LIKE NORMAL PEOPLE!” Eren bellowed, “I WISH WE COULD ALL JUST GET OUR FEELINGS STRAIGHT AND BE HAPPY TOGETHER!”

“Me, too!” Marco gasped, struggling for breath, finally letting him go, “I’m done with all this drama!”

“JEAN,” Eren continued, having trouble bringing his voice back down to normal, “I’M SORRY THAT KISS MESSED US UP. I’M SORRY… I’m sorry that we didn’t tell you about Marco and me kissing. I don’t want us to just be friends. I don’t. I don’t, _I don’t_ \- I DON’T.”

Jean came forward and hugged him close. “I’m sorry, too. I want to be with you.”

“I love you, Jean,” Eren said hoarsely. “And you, Marco. I love you guys. So much.”

Marco came toward them, putting his arms around them both. “And I love you. I love you, I love you.”

Eren shivered. “You’re cold. Why are you so cold? We need to go back. Right now. And then we can do this my way, okay? No screaming about feelings. We’re going to get everything out on the table.”

“Okay, Eren.”

“Okay.”

Eren broke away and rubbed Marco’s arms vigorously, getting the blood flowing through them. Jean apologized for some unknown reason, pressing his body against Marco’s briefly before they all headed back on scarred-up feet.

Marco and Jean huddled on the couch under one blanket, both having changed into their preferred sleepwear, Eren having hung back in the living room while they'd done so. The lights were back on, and Jean and Marco had toweled off their hair.

“Won’t you _please_ get something dry on?” Marco begged Eren, who stood before them, hair still dripping onto his face, disheveled clothing clinging closely to his body. “I worry about you catching cold going on wearing that.”

“One,” Eren deadpanned, “Should I catch pneumonia and die, may it serve as a grim reminder to the both of you why you don’t make out in the middle of a thunderstorm without any protection from the elements, whatsoever. Two - you were the one who was already frozen halfway to death out there. Three - I’m not moving from this spot until you guys tell me why you were outside in the first place.”

Jean shifted uncomfortably. “It was my fault,” he admitted. “Marco - last night, I guess, he - well, did you think I was asleep or something? What _was_ that?”

Marco’s face burned red. “Y-yeah, I did. Um. It was the kiss, you know? I thought he was asleep, and I just - I needed to get it off my chest, so I just… told him. And I guess he wasn’t really sleeping.”

“I kinda was. I was kinda half there.”

“And,” Eren said, eyebrows knitted together, “You’re okay with this? The - the threesome? Er, uh, not - I mean - you know, threesome, like - not, you know, _sex_ , though that can totally happen! More like, er, the relationship, I guess. With the three of us.”

“Yeah,” Jean replied, “Yeah - I’m completely okay with it. I really - like it, actually. But here’s the thing - when I heard Marco say that, I kinda… freaked. I didn’t know what to do, or to think, and there were just fifty million things going through my head, and… I did something. Like, really bad. To - to Marco.”

Marco looked at Jean for a moment, worry etched on his face, and cautiously put an arm around his shoulder. “It’s okay,” he said quietly. “I - I didn’t react very well when you kissed me. I didn’t react very well at all.”

“But I was out of line. It was the wrong time to kiss you, and then I went running out when you hit me -”

“Slow down,” Eren cut in disbelievingly. “You still haven’t said what you did in the first place, and - what’s this kiss? Was that the one I saw? When did you hit him?”

Jean took a deep breath. Looked at Marco. “I… I locked him outside. In the rain.”

Eren stared at him. Then he turned to Marco. “You were really cold,” he commented quietly.

“I wasn’t out there long,” Marco assured him, “Only ten minutes. I was only a little colder than either of you when we came back. And Jean makes it sound like I had to kick down the door just to get back in - even though he left the front open.”

“Still,” Eren and Jean said simultaneously, then looked at each other for a long moment. Jean continued, “Still - that was dangerous. And I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry and I’m honestly surprised you’re still so trusting of me.”

“No,” Marco replied, shaking his head, “No, I’m the one who’s surprised you’re still trusting me, after I hit you like that. That’s abuse. I… I hit you really hard.” He looked down at his palm as if it were the most disgusting thing on Earth.

Eren released a deep breath. He then said, “Marco - you’ve never done anything to hurt anyone before. If Jean kissed you after you came back inside, well, I probably would have reacted the same way in your situation. And Jean - let’s face it, you are the weirdest person ever when you haven’t slept. It’s not much of an excuse, but - you obviously regret it, and I honestly don’t think you’ll ever do something like that again. To anybody.”

Jean shook his head vigorously. “Never. Never, ever.”

“So - let me get this straight - Jean, you locked Marco outside - then Marco came back in - you kissed him - you hit him - and then?”

“Jean ran outside,” Marco finished, “And I chased him. And then… well, you saw.”

Eren nodded slowly. Finally, he let out another sigh. “You two,” he groaned, rubbing his face tiredly, “Are _insane._ Fucking _nuts._ ”

Marco smiled at the ground. Lifting his eyes, he saw Jean smiling at him. “Sorry, Jean.”

A shake of Jean’s head. “I forgive you. I’m sorry, too.”

Marco’s smile widened. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Jean’s temple. He then looked to Eren. Jean followed suit.

“That a good enough explanation for you?” Jean asked, mock-tiredly, “Are you gonna stop being stubborn as hell and get comfy with us?”

Marco nodded his agreement. “I feel cold and unpleasant just looking at you right now, Eren.”

Eren pursed his lips like he wanted to say something more, then finally gave in. “Alright,” he grumbled, listlessly pulling his shirt off. His pants soon followed, leaving him in only his damp underwear. “I hope you two have room for me over there.”

The two others both grinned and opened their arms as he approached. He settled in between them, letting them put their shared blanket over him. He even hummed pleasantly at the warm sensation. After a moment, he leaned over and kissed Marco’s mouth, just briefly.

“There,” he said plainly. “Now we’ve all kissed each other twice. It’s even.”

“That hardly compares to Jean’s and my second kiss, though,” Marco argued playfully.

“Yeah!” Jean put in jokingly, “To be _really_ even, you’ve gotta kiss us each for at least a minute. No buts. We have to be fair here, after all.”

“Well then,” Eren replied, and pressed his lips to Marco’s again, this time letting the kiss linger.

“The point was that I wanted one, too,” Jean pouted, humor still in his voice. Eren showed him his middle finger, not breaking away from Marco. “Okay, that was just uncalled for.”

Marco reached out to Jean, the kiss still deepening, clutched his hand, and squeezed it. With this encouragement, Jean tentatively leaned toward Eren and kissed the back of his neck. When he got a hum of approval from his shorter beau, he continued with these ministrations.

Marco squeezed his hand again and finally broke off from Eren, face red, blurting, “Um - I - I’m not ready yet!”

Eren and Jean both looked at him for a moment. Then it clicked. Eren’s face mirrored his. “Oh - I - me neither! I hadn’t meant to - you know - that wasn’t my intent. Not at all. Besides,” he added sheepishly, “I’m so tired right now, I don’t think I’d remember.”

“Okay,” Marco muttered, eyes cast downward in embarrassment. “I just - I wanted to make sure. Like, maybe - maybe in a couple days. But not now.”

“Don’t move faster than you’re comfortable,” Eren reassured him. He looked back at Jean. “Right? We don’t want you to feel rushed.”

Jean had buried his face in Eren’s shoulder. “Yeah. Right. No rush.”

Marco craned his neck, trying to see Jean. “Why are you hiding, Jean?”

“Because my face is probably beet red right now.”

Marco and Eren laughed. The latter reached a hand back to pat Jean’s head at an awkward angle. “Same here.”

“I - I hadn’t even been - you know, thinking about - uh, that. Nope.”

“Do you _want_ to wait?” Marco inquired nervously. “I mean - like, I could, if you guys really wanted -”

“No!” Jean exclaimed, finally emerging, “No, Eren’s right, I think we should just - take it easy. Like, I could do it now, but I don’t want to do it before you guys are ready. It wouldn’t be worth it if you - well - you know.”

“Yeah,” Eren agreed, “And you don’t have to put a deadline on it or anything. Let’s just do it when we all feel like doing it.”

“Thanks, you two.”

“Anything for you,” Eren yawned. Jean sank down onto Eren’s back, giving Marco a dreamy smile. Marco drowsily smiled back.

With Marco leaning back on the armrest, Eren’s head on his chest, and Jean lying on Eren’s back, they drifted off to sleep, warm and safe, the rain pattering on the roof.

The next day, they were all too tired to do much of anything, so they spent the day either inside or in the small back yard. The day after that, it rained again, and by the third day, they were all positively stir crazy. At long last, they decided to pay a visit to their favorite mall.

The night before, after another round of movies(their excuse being that the score was too close to call with the first round), Marco had persuaded the other two that, no, he wasn’t doing it from pressure, and yes, he was ready to lose his virginity. Today, they were still all a combination of flustered and prideful regarding their first truly intimate experience.

And so there they were, perusing the little stalls and shops and making countless innuendos.

“I like that shirt, Marco. You should try it on.”

“You know where I’d like it better?” Eren asked under his breath, watching the other two pore over the rack. Marco closed his eyes and just sighed, the tiniest of smiles curling his lip.

“Don’t say the floor.”

“On me. You know, for that oversized, I-just-had-sex-with-this-guy look.”

“You can crack as many jokes as you want, Jaeger,” Jean cut in, smirking, “But you’re not going to cover up those _adorable_ noises you made when Marco -”

“Let’s not discuss this out loud, please,” Marco said sternly, giving each of them a look, “We’re in public.”

“Oh, but Marco -”

“Fu-u-u-uck,” Jean said under his breath, very seductively, very obviously imitating one of Eren’s aforementioned, undulating “noises” from the night before. Marco’s ears burned red. Eren’s weren’t much better.

“Okay, never mind, Marco’s right. Stop.”

“Oh, fine. Nerds.”

“Don’t listen to him, Marco. He’s just desensitized to this because of all the pretentiously written pornos he’s read.”

“Ugh, for crying out loud, I thought you’d forgotten about that already!”

“We’re never going to forget,” Marco informed him, “Especially not when your reading materials are still lying around all over the house.”

It was Jean’s turn to become red in the face. Marco giggled at him. Eren smirked, scratching one peeling shoulder. At least his sunburn didn’t hurt like hell anymore. And there were actually parts of him that were turning from red to brown.

“Anyway,” he said, turning back to the rack, “Are you guys actually gonna get anything? I don’t think I’ve got money to spare for this kinda stuff.”

“I don’t think so,” Jean replied. “You?”

Marco shook his head. “It looks nice, but I don’t really need any of this.”

“Then let’s get Oreos,” Eren snickered. “Gonna choke on the powdered sugar again, Jean?”

“Not as hard as I’m gonna make _you_ choke on my -” At a warning glance from both other boys, he backtracked quickly, “Okay, okay, sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

After strolling over to the booth and ordering six deep-fried Oreos, they sat down to consume them. Jean choked on the powdered sugar. Eren rubbed it in his face. Marco couldn’t stop laughing.

Coughing up clouds of white powder, Jean choked out, “I deserved that.”

“You did,” Eren cackled, handing him a napkin. Marco was still laughing, struggling for breath, actual tears of mirth streaming down his face. “Now shut up and eat your heart attack on a plate.”

“I think I need some water,” Jean said in a strangled voice.

Marco chuckled, “Th-there’s a bubbler over there.”

There was a moment of silence as his new boyfriends stared at him in confusion. Then the lightbulb went off over Jean’s head. “Oh, a _bubbler_! You mean a drinking fountain, right?”

“What the _actual fuck?_ ” Eren asked, “Who calls it a _bubbler?_ ”

“People from Wisconsin,” Marco replied as Jean walked in the direction he’d indicated. There was still a huge grin on his face. “Actually, I remember when Jean found out what we called it. It was the same day I found out that the term doesn’t exist anywhere else.”

Eren looked at him skeptically. “Are you shitting me right now?”

“Why would I be shitting you?”

“Cuz I’ve never heard anyone else say that. Ever.”

“People say it all the time, where I’m from!”

“I think you and Jean are pulling something on me.”

“Well, you’ll just have to come home with me some time. People think you’re weird if you say anything else. Ask Jean. Our teacher was so funny when he said ‘drinking fountain’ this one time - she just gave him this look and was like, you’re not from around here, are you?”

“He’s not kidding,” Jean said, coming back, “I’m convinced the entire state of Wisconsin is on some weird drug. Some weird bubbler drug that makes it weird to say anything else. It also makes them drink beer and eat cheese.”

“And go bowling,” Marco supplied, taking a bite from his deep fried Oreo and shuddering with disgusted enjoyment. “And listen to polka music.”

“Maybe the Midwest is just a mass hallucination,” Eren joked.

“But you can’t deny, we do make good cheese. I’m never very impressed when I come over here. That’s probably why you guys don’t like it and I do.”

Jean tapped his chin. “I think I want a polka band at my wedding. That would be amazing.”

“It’s actually a tradition in my family,” Marco laughed. “At least, that one’s more avidly followed than wearing kilts.”

“I thought your family was Italian?”

“We are. There are pieces from Scotland and Germany, too, though. I’m actually about half-and-half German and Italian.”

"Let's just all get married," Eren concluded. The other two grinned at him.

"How about we hold off on that until we're capable of making realistic long-term decisions?" Marco suggested, chuckling. "We're only eighteen, after all."

Eren rolled his eyes mock-grudgingly and droned, " _Okaaay._ "

"Anyway," Jean muttered, glancing about, "What do you guys wanna do after this? We've seen all the booths and stores and stuff, so there's not much else unless we, like, get our fortunes told or a pedicure or something."

There was a moment of hesitation in which it was clear that none of them really wanted to leave. Sure, the mall really didn't have much to do, but it was bright and cheerful and they had a gorgeous view of the sunset. Marco said quietly, "Would it be weird if I were to confess a desire to see what a pedicure is actually like?"

"Not really," Eren replied with a distinct frown. "But it sounds expensive."

"Okay, come on, dude," Jean sighed with a touch of exasperation. "You have been on our cases about cash this whole trip. What are you so afraid of? You've got a bunch from your part-time at home, right? Why are you so worried?"

Marco took a look at the stressed expression on Eren's face and added gently, "He's right, you know. You really have been talking about money an awful lot."

Under their acute observation, Eren squirmed a bit, then sighed, resigned. "Well, I'm gonna be at college soon - we all are - and... I mean, yeah, Boston guarantees to meet demonstrated need, but... There's still living expenses and stuff. And Mikasa and Armin both got grants for that, since they're so smart. And I... Didn't. So I didn't wanna make Hannes pay more for me than for them, you know? I was gonna pay for the year myself." He stared at his hands. His companions stared at him.

Abruptly, Marco, of all people, said, "You're an idiot."

Jean, shocked, looked up at him. "That's a bit harsh, don't you think?"

"For one thing, Eren," Marco continued, undeterred, "Hannes is your dad. It's his job to take care of you. You don't have to feel guilty for not getting a grant when your siblings did. And for that matter, stop comparing yourself against them like just because they're the valedictorian and salutatorian of your class means you're some kind of moron! Remember, you made the top ten of your class, too!"

Eren smiled weakly at him. Jean put in his two cents.

"Well - yeah, he's right. And for another thing - I'm going to Boston with you, remember. And Marco's gonna be in the same town as us, just a ride away. You can come to us if you need help."

"But you're both gonna be broke college kids, too."

"But at least we'll be _there,_ " Marco laughed, rolling his eyes. "We can still help out if you're feeling stressed. Just let somebody take care of you sometimes, okay? You're not as much of a burden as you make yourself out to be."

"You're still a mess, though," Jean chuckled, reaching forward to wipe a smudge of powdered sugar off of Eren's nose. Eren scowled at him, his manner significantly more cheerful.

"Oh, fine. Thanks, guys."

"In the meantime, though," Marco grinned mischievously, "why not let me pay for you to get your toenails prettified?"

Eren bit his lip mirthfully. "Okay. But you both have to do it, too!"

Jean shrugged. "Hey, why not? It's not like I'm gonna be seeing anybody aside from you nerds in the near future anyway."

“So, it’s - it’s that one, right? Uh, Freedom Nails?”

“Looks like it,” Jean affirmed, chuckling when he glanced at Marco. “You seem oddly into this.”

“Hey, when you’re doing something ridiculous, it’s best to just throw yourself in. I feel that I get less embarrassed that way.”

Tossing their plates into the trash, they opened the door to the empty nail salon. A scowling gentleman looked up at them. “You got an appointment?” he grumped at them, raising his eyebrows when he noticed they were all male.

“No,” Marco said, “Do we need one?”

“Not really,” the man sighed boredly. “We’re not busy. What are you in here for?”

Marco bit his lip. Eren and Jean were trying not to look at each other for fear that they might burst into laughter. “Uh, pedicures.”

The man idly bit his tongue but didn’t say anything particularly snarky, which was good, because Marco’s face was beginning to burn up. So much for throwing himself in. “Well, if you want your nails painted, colors are on the wall next to you,” he raised his voice to continue, “PETRA! Can you guys handle three pedicures right now?”

“Sure thing, Auruo!” chirped a small, redheaded woman as she poked her head around a divider, “We’re just cleaning up stations right now!” She looked up at the visitors, smiled - perhaps a little sarcastically - and retreated.

“Marco,” Eren said, startling his companion as he held out a little bottle of nail polish, “I think this color suits you.”

“Bright yellow. Lovely.”

“I’m serious! I think it’s a very Marco-ish color. Don’t you, Jean?”

“It’s perfect. All sunshiney and happy, just like you, Marco.”

Marco rolled his eyes, smiling. “Oh, fine. Are we all picking each other’s colors?”

Jean leaned forward and selected a deep, shimmering red. “For you, Eren.”

“Why red?”

“Because you’re bad. And bad girls wear red nail polish.”

Eren snorted. “Isn’t that a quote from Gilmore Girls?”

“And how might you happen to know that, Eren? Hmm?”

“Because you’ve made both of us watch it with you fifty bazillion times, Jean.”

“You’re only allowed to be snarky before you’ve had your coffee, Marco!”

“You say I can’t be snarky after I’ve had my coffee, Eren says I can’t be snarky until I’ve eaten my breakfast, when am I actually allowed to be snarky?”

“Never,” Eren and Jean replied in unison.

Marco gave them a deadpan stare, turned to the display, and picked out the brightest, most obnoxious pink he could find. “Here, Jean.”

“Oh, god,” Jean snickered, “Yes. I wholeheartedly accept.”

“Are you all ready?” asked Petra’s perky voice. Looking around, the three saw her holding out a card for them to view. “Would you like Regular or Deluxe?”

“Regular for me,” Marco replied automatically, and indicated Eren, “and Deluxe for him.”

“Wha - Marco, that’s forty dollars!”

“And you deserve every cent,” Marco said sweetly. “You don’t have to worry. I want you to be happy and not think about money all the time.”

Eren stared at him, blushing. He let out a sigh. “Okay, fine. Jean, tell her what you’re getting.”

“Just Regular,” Jean chuckled, “Though I’ll be sure to help pay for you, don’t worry. I don’t want it to just be Marco spoiling you.”

Petra was looking at them, one eyebrow raised. “You know,” she giggled, “You kids remind me of some people I know, with all that talk about money. They have a little ice cream parlor on Long Beach Island.”

“We’re staying there!” Marco exclaimed upon hearing this information. Petra guided them towards some massaging chairs with bowls filled with blue-tinted water set beneath them. “We know some people who have an ice cream parlor!”

“Do you know a man named Levi?”

“Yes,” Eren said, eyes widening with foreboding, “He’s terrifying.”

“Go ahead and kick your shoes off - there you go - and you can all put your feet in the water and configure the chairs how you want them. I’ll start on you, since the Deluxe takes longer, and my coworkers will be by in just a bit for the two of you! Yeah,” she returned to the subject, “He’s kinda scary! He’s nice, though, when you get to know him. He cares a lot for his employees. I had a big crush on him back when I was working for him. And then I ended up with that nerd you met earlier. But, anyway! What a coincidence! - Is that water warm enough?”

All three boys replied in the affirmative. Jean experimented with his chair, though Marco and Eren opted out. Petra began working on Eren’s feet, making casual conversation as she went.

“I can’t remove your callouses if you keep getting ticklish, you know,” she scolded when Eren burst into laughter for a third time.

“I-I - I’m sorry,” he gasped, looking over at his two companions. Marco was smiling warmly at him, Jean having sunk blissfully into his chair. “I’m not used to people touching my feet.”

“I’m almost done with this part,” she promised. As she put some cuticle cream on his toes, two men entered from the back, carrying bins of their supplies the way Petra had been earlier. One was dark-skinned with black hair, the other tall, pale, and blonde. They stationed themselves at Jean’s and Marco’s feet.

After some introductions, during which Petra identified them as being called Eld and Gunther, they began treating Jean and Marco’s nails. They were nice enough, though significantly quieter in manner than Petra, and very focused on their task.

Petra treated Eren’s feet with a seemingly endless array of scrubs and lotions - something about sea salt, green tea, citrus, what even WAS all this shit, who cared where it came from as long as it felt good - but he found he liked the hot towels best. When she laid one upon his leg, he audibly sighed with happiness. Marco, next to him, looked over.

“Is that too hot?” Petra asked him.

“No, no!” he replied, blissfully lying back on his chair. “That feels so good.”

When she began massaging his legs and feet with the hot towels, he grinned shamelessly. Jean was staring at him now, too. The way he exhaled in exaltation - it was actually kind of _sexy._

Jean and Marco, though their pedicures had begun after Eren’s, finished before him and went to the nail-drying station to wait while their toes dried. Jean wiggled his in admiration.

“I think this is my color.”

“Hmm… Pardon me for saying this, Jean, but I disagree.”

“Well, that yellow sure looks nice on you.”

“I think we should get pictures once Eren’s done.”

“Oh, yeah. All-out hipster style. This is gonna be awesome.”

Eren hobbled up to them, wearing his flip-flops and the bizarre toe separators that Jean and Marco had removed already, their nails dried. The deep red color Marco had picked for him actually looked quite nice.

“So,” he said, “That was amazing.”

Jean waggled his eyebrows. “I noticed. Did you notice, Marco?”

“You definitely seemed to enjoy it.”

“I wanna get a pedicure, like, every day. In fact, I’ll just never stop getting pedicures. Let’s just let strangers touch my feet all the time.”

“What happened to your monetary concerns?”

“Marco can pay for it.”

“What? No way! I didn’t sign up for this!”

“This little piggy went to the market,” Marco murmured, leaning forward to wiggle the pink-nailed big toe of Jean’s left foot, which was propped up on the shotgun seat. Jean snickered as he continued. “And this little piggy stayed home. This little piggy had roast beef, and this little piggy had none.” As he said the last line, he dropped Jean’s toes and walked his fingers up Jean’s leg, up his side, and around him so that he was embracing the other boy. “And this little piggy went wee, wee, wee, aaaaaall the way home!” He planted a chaste kiss on Jean’s cheek. Jean returned the kiss - on his lips.

Eren looked up into the rearview mirror. “Hey, I want in on that!”

“Just drive, Eren.”

Eren playfully stuck his tongue out but didn’t say any more. When Jean moved back in to kiss Marco again, Marco pulled his head back so Jean couldn’t reach, a small frown creasing his brow.

“Eren, what’s playing right now?”

He received a shameless grin in reply. “Katy Perry’s California Gurlz.”

“ _Yuck_.”

“Face the music, Marco,” Jean cackled, “Your boyfriends have the worst taste in absolutely everything. I’ve got my pretentiously written pornos, Eren’s got his girl pop. You chose this road, Marco. You brought this upon yourself.”

As if to emphasize Jean’s point, Eren turned up the song, shouting over Katy, “PENN. SYL. VAAAN-IA GIRLS.”

Marco tried to scowl, though a humorous effect still crept onto his features. “At least have the decency to make it Pennsylvania _Boys,_ Eren.”

“But then I’d just be singing about myself.”

“And you are indeed the finest Pennsylvania Boy of them all, my dear.”

“You flatter me so, Jean.”

With a click of their blinker and a tidily made turn, they were home. Once the car was in park, Eren leaned over the seat separating him from his companions and said, “Payback time. Gimme a kiss.”

Marco went in first, then Jean. “Funny how, just a week ago, our entire relationship was in jeopardy over a tiny little kiss, just like this,” Jean muttered against Eren’s lips.

Eren grunted and pulled back. “That’s not funny at all, buttface.”

Marco rolled his eyes. “Get out of the car, you two. You’re squishing me.”

There was a chorus of “Sorry, Marco”s from the other two as they rushed to “kiss away the damage”.

“Welcome to the Survey Corps!” Hanji exclaimed when they walked in the door.

“Hanji!” Marco responded ecstatically, “You’re finally back!”

Hanji took a second to observe Marco. Then a look of comprehension spread across her face, followed by a huge grin. “Marco! It’s you! Oh, my god - we need to get this kid a discount!”

Marco frantically waved his hands, crying, “No discount! No discounts necessary, thank you very much!”

Eren and Jean, behind him, were nodding vigorously, saying things to the effect of, “We don’t need any discounts. Seriously. Not necessary.”

“I was _wondering_ when you’d come in wanting soft serve,” Mike muttered, grabbing some cake cones.

Jean squinted at him. “How do you do that.”

“I’ll tell you my secret,” Mike replied, “But then I’ll have to kill you.”

“Give me those, geezer,” Levi instructed a struggling Erwin, who was trying to carry in two tubs of ice cream from the back at once. “Your back’s messed up as it is.”

“Oh,” Marco said, trying to keep the fear out of his voice, “L-Levi’s back, too.”

Levi leered at him over the tubs he was carrying. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten your little incident, kid.”

“What incident?” Eren asked without thinking. Then he thought it through. “On second thought, never mind, I think I know what you did.”

“For the record, it was kind of my fault,” Jean inserted, a tad sheepishly. “The point is, it was chocolate ice cream and got absolutely everywhere.”

“Oh, just let it go, Levi!” Hanji cackled, patting Levi’s back. “It was five years ago, and he was freaked out enough as it was!”

Marco rubbed his nose awkwardly. “I _am_ sorry, though.”

“Oh, Marco,” Eren sighed indulgently.

“Oh, Marco,” Jean echoed, as if agreeing with Eren.

“I _thought_ I smelled young love,” Mike said, smirking.

And then, all too soon, they were standing in front of security, struggling through a goodbye even more excruciating than the one five years before that. Eren may even have been crying. Jean was hugging him and Marco was hugging them both.

“Dude,” Jean mumbled into Eren’s hair. “Just wait a month. We’re all going to college in the same city. Okay? We planned this. It’s only gonna be a month this time.”

An incoherent grumbling exhale emitted from Eren’s chest. Marco smiled and kissed the top of his head. “And we can Skype and text and Snapchat and all those good things. It’ll be like we were never even apart.”

“No, it won’t,” Eren said, raising his voice so that it was more perceptible, keeping his face buried in his boyfriends’ shoulders, “You’ll still be gone. I won’t be able to hug you and that stuff.”

The airport around them wasn’t crowded, not really, but there were still people around, a few curiously glancing at the three-part embrace. Eren disregarded this, pulling back to kiss Jean, then standing on his toes to kiss Marco. “Get outta here. I don’t wanna cry again.” And he said this, already crying.

Marco gave them one last squeeze before letting go. Jean followed suit. After a moment of hesitation, Marco reached forward and pinched Eren’s cheeks. Eren stared at him incredulously.

“You,” Marco told him, “are adorable.”

Jean burst into laughter. “You know, I gotta agree with you on that one, Marco. Look at his face. Look at that murderous intent.”

“You massive shitheads. You lumps of manure.”

And they laughed at him and they laughed together and then Eren was standing alone, wondering when he’d see them again, even though he knew.

Perhaps five minutes passed before he took out his phone to open Google Maps to see which route he should take home. Before he could do much, though, his phone buzzed in his hand. Marco had texted him.

It was a picture of a baby duck. Marco’d captioned it, **It’d _duck_ if you were sad! :(**

The entire world of duck-related humor at his fingertips, and he’d replaced the word _suck_ with _duck._ Eren bit his lip.

Moments later, a notification popped up at the top of his screen. It was a Snapchat. When Eren opened it, he saw a picture of Marco, typing what was probably the very text he’d just received. **I think I know who he’s texting** , it read.

A flurry of Shapchats came afterward in which Marco looked up, Jean recorded a video of Marco pouting with him saying “I think I pissed off our boyfriend” in the background, and finally two pictures came of them posing together, one with normal smiles and the other with them both making the typical ugly-selfie-million-chins face.

And Eren grinned through the tears in his eyes.

And he walked down the hall to the parking lot.

And he drove himself home.

He was in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll post the tumblr link when it's up!


End file.
